Avenge Me Book 3- The Aftermath
by Ezra Cross
Summary: Fans of "Avenge Me" and its prequel will not be disappointed by this harrowing ride following the events of AOU. Clint's family is exposed. Following his wife and son's kidnapping, and Ultron's attack, what length will he got to in order to protect what matters most? created as a lead in to Civil War, this ride will make you tear out your hair and beg for more.
1. Prologue

_Hello faithful fans_

 _Introducing the Latest and Greatest from the Mind of yours truly._

 _Fans of "The Prequel" and "Avenge Me" will find solace in this story here, the follow-up to those now classic hits._

 _Read. Review. Hold tight my friends._

* * *

 **The Aftermath**

 _By Ezra Cross_

Prologue

Dregs of rain came down intermittently through pine needles and the scent of wet oak trees. My footing struggled over the knots and holes left by trees and wildlife both. Rocks the size of bricks scattered along the path, stumbling into my way as I clamored up the incline into the night. In the distance a waterfall's cataclysmic roar thundered through my ears. I struggled to focus on those who hunted behind me. Those who hunted _for_ me. I could see them slipping between the trees, curious and excited. Waiting with bated breath for the ghost or apparition of the night to storm out after them. They wanted blood. Retribution. Something to bring back to Fury and everyone else. In the end it wouldn't matter. I'd leave the body for them to find and steal off into the dark with her.

Laura.

She's the only thing that mattered now. Not the team, not the mission, not even my own life. I didn't care anymore. I just needed to get her safe, to Hell with the team. At first, I wanted to call to them. How desperately I dared to raise my voice into the warring night and scream Tony's name. Just a warning, that's all they needed. A signal to Cap that might have prevented him from picking up that gun against me.

I wouldn't blame him. Couldn't blame him. He'd never know the man he shot at, the black-clad ghost fleeing into the night, was none other than his own partner.

Hawkeye.

Me.

I leaned down, snatching Laura out of the dirt and hugging her against my chest.

"RUN!" I screamed in her ear, urging her forward. She sprinted ahead of me. Light as a deer. I vaulted after her, hearing the boot clad feet of our pursuers stomping through the moon-washed night.

"Stop!" the authoritative shout from Steve.

"Keep running!" I told her. "Don't turn. Go! Don't stop!"

"Stop or I'll shoot!"

I ducked beneath the overhanging pine branches. The needles stung at me like an angry wasp swarm. I ducked my face from them. I dared not raise my gun to Steve and neither did I stop. The harder we fled, the further back we left the campfire's safety. A blanket of stars overhead threatened to give us up. Just beyond me Laura could see the stretch of black top pavement leading down the hillside gully. The truck was parked deep beneath the roadside washout. She could make it.

"I said stop!"

A tree lay over the path ahead of us. I caught up to Laura beside it, lifting her in my arms and throwing her over the colossal trunk. She landed on her backside, bruised most likely, but sprang to her feet again and looked back for me.

"GO!" I screamed.

She never resisted, knew well enough not too.

I grabbed hunks of bark in my bare hands and nearly vaulted over the blockade myself. I knew Steve wasn't far behind. He could out run mortal men like me. If he caught up, then our lives were over. He wouldn't know it, maybe none of them would. But I could never run that risk. Family first. Avengers second.

I had just about cleared the other side of the fallen trunk when the shot rang out. I fell to the ground hard, bounced my hip over a rock, and rolled down the embankment. Jumping to my feet again, I tore off across the glen, meeting Laura, and the getaway truck, before Steve could discover us in the dark.

* * *

Typically my style. cliffhangers at every turn.

caveat: I am in my clinical year of veterinary school Those who have read my Hawkeye Initiative series may have noticed my myriad of notes through the years of my progression through this education process, but now it is coming to this final head. What this means for you, dear readers, is updates will be slow, at best. I will try my level best, but that is all I can promise.

If you review, I nearly always respond with either a thank you, or a personal note at the beginning of the next chapter.


	2. Chapter 1

_WARNING:author notes tend to be long. A while back i asked my readers would they rather not have responses to their questions at all, or a really long author note reply. this won. So, if you aren't into note-reading, please forgive the lengthiness and enjoy the story._

WestonFollower: The "Family First" will be a common theme here, but Clint will have to discover who exactly is considered "family"

flutrbyey: If you know that Clint has a family (SPOILER!) and that a certain someone died (SPOILER AGAIN) and the gist of the ending, then this will probably make sense for you. If you do not mind spoilers in general, I would be happy to explain anything that doesn't make sense. And THANK YOU for that wonderful compliment!

Guest: Why...well, that IS the mystery here, isn't it?

khaitosfren: waiting shall no longer commence!

m klindt: oh, you know I am the ruler of gut wrenching!

Niom Lamboise: I can only imagine his reaction!

amy. .9: Prepare to get addicted to another wild ride!

Batghost: ohhhh why indeed?

JRBarton: You? OLD? i do not believe it! oh, and you know me. these little inspirations just pop up out of nowhere

Jokerang: this book (i think i may have PM'd you) is not part of "The Prequel", "Avenger Me", and now, "The Aftermath"

8839: I am so excited that you are so excited!

discordchick: HAHAHAHA, i can just imagine your expressions, your excitement, and...yeah...you may hate me after this.

Ms. Hawkeye: you just read your latest addiction. hehehehe.

jalohalo123: I re-arranged the SHIELD background and it is now available, complete with timeline and dates, as the SECOND chapter of the story I Can Hear The Drums: caution! There are spoilers. However, the history written there, is all my own created canon and will not apply to this new series of canons.

5mairer: OH NO! I am so sorry to hear about your injury and all the best to feel better!

Padria95: why thank you! your support is what keeps me writing for sure!

The Spoiled Duchess: HAHAHA, the Laura Initiative. I think I'm going to go with "Broken Arrow" or "Crooked Arrow" perhaps.

* * *

 **The Aftermath**

 _By Ezra Cross_

Chapter 1

I looked into the bottom of the beer bottle, wondering whether staring long enough might cause it to refill itself. Thus far, my powers over the Force had been unsuccessful. Natasha sat across from me. Staring at no one. Talking to no one. She wore her dark grey hoodie, with the draw strings pulled all the way down. It created a suction around her face which caused every stray strand of red hair to become entrapped, seemingly for all time. She hadn't decided to move much with the gunshot in her thigh Ultron gave her. I wasn't much better off with the partial hole that tore my new skin open. Four days since we dropped an entire floating city out of the sky, and here we all sat. Staring, not moving, and not talking.

Outside the rain came down heavy on the city of New York. Somewhere a blue and red spandex spider was web-slinging his way into the side of a building. He did his part, weird as that might be. In the meantime the lot of us decided that sitting around and absorbing the facts of our lives, made better sense than answering the multitude of phone calls fielding our way. I'll admit it. I threw my cell phone out the window the minute I reached home.

Ultron screwed with us, and we all knew it. Tony and Bruce were to blame, and we knew that too. Bruce took off. Natasha wasn't herself. Steve wasn't even acting self-righteous, and Tony had yet to speak since his artificial intelligence became a walking, talking sentient being known as "Vision".

And I thought my life was complicated before.

I wanted to go home. Back to the farm, my family, and my pregnant wife. Back to the life I liked, the one that made sense, the one where I didn't have to toss my cell because I thought it might come to life on me. I didn't want to admit it, but that's the truth of it.

I got to my feet. In the circle of Thor, Tony, Natasha, Steve, Hill, Vision, Wanda and Pepper I was the only one to get up.

"I'm leaving," I said.

Thor's eyebrows raised. Pepper went to mount a protest but I squelched it before she had a chance.

"I've got a wife that's pregnant, a side almost cut in half by anti-aircraft artillery, and we're not getting anything done just sitting here like a bunch of lumps on a log. I'm going home." I dropped my beer bottle onto the table by Tony's.

"How you getting home?" Steve asked.

"I'm stealing Tony's BMW." As if to emphasize the point, I crossed the room to the bar and picked the keys out of his unused ashtray.

"You can't have my car," Tony said.

Pepper smacked him in the arm. "Of course you can, Clint. Tell Laura hello, from all of us."

I nodded once, pocketing the keys. My attention turned briefly to my long-time partner. Natasha wasn't herself, hadn't been herself for a long time now. I'm not sure why I hadn't seen it before. Worrying about the new baby kept me distracted. That and the mutant robot destroying our lives. Before then the team had helped me save my family from a group of HYDRA thugs who'd taken them on false pretense. Let's just say, there's been a lot on my plate. The excuse wasn't a good one. She'd suffered and I didn't see it. She got kidnapped and I followed orders rather than went after her right away. Natasha got in deep with Bruce Banner of all people and I wasn't the voice of reason to stop her. My fault.

"Nat, you coming?" I reached out.

Her eyes remained down, arms folded, hood tight, legs crossed. Warnings, all of them, one's I'd systematically followed and ignored during my days. I should stop pushing now before I found her boot nailing me someplace important. She wasn't coming. I didn't press. Not this time. Maybe she needed a while to consider what had happened or come to terms with her life. Rejection didn't happen often. Mostly she could have whoever she wanted, whenever she wanted them. Dangling the carrot of seeing my little girl, Lila, usually worked. This time it didn't.

I nodded again. Stepped around the couch, and headed for the door. I needed to be home. The Avengers deserved a break.

I didn't realize until I headed up the lonely hall that I was leaving the Avengers' Tower for the first time, having the team know full well exactly where I was going. Usually I sprung some cover or other on them. I needed to check in with Fury. I had to catch up with a contact. Was reaching out to old leads, or a thousand other things to do. Now they knew who exactly I was, where I went, and who with. They knew everything about me. Them, the Maximoff girl, and Vision too. I realized then my secret was out for a lot of people and suddenly I didn't like it.

"Clint?"

My hand reached for the elevator button, depressing it just as I heard my name called. I straightened and turned to the man.

"What is it, Tony?" I asked. My hands found their ways into my leather jacket pockets.

Stark stood across from me. He shuffled from one foot to the next, thinking his way through a problem. A heaviness settled between us the minute I heard what he'd done. I was a spy before I became an Avenger. Placing a suit of armor around the planet was a sound ideal for a man like him, but it sure bristled the hair on the back of my neck.

The elevator door opened with a gentle chime. I glanced over my shoulder at it, then returned my attention to him. "Tony?"

"He might have found out," Tony said.

My face showed the curiosity, crossing to concern. "Who found what out?" I demanded.

"Ultron."

Obviously, this was going to take some doing. The elevator door, feeling neglected, slid closed again of its own accord. Just beyond us, bodies shuffled out of seats. Cap appeared around the corner at Tony's back. His hands sat on his hips as he watched us.

"Ultron found what out?" My words came out slow and very deliberate. That bristle of hair stood on end. My muscles tightened.

"He had access to my files, to JARVIS, to everything about us. He could read our profiles and everything I have on us. It's possible he knew—or he could have found out—about your family."

My heart plummeted. In some ways I knew that might be coming, but it didn't make hearing the words any less hard. I struggled against striding forward and putting one of my fists through his eye socket. At first, I thought maybe I'd be in control enough to stop myself. Suddenly, though the world appeared to have changed, gone red, and there I was with Tony's shirt wrapped in my fist and the Captain yanking me off him. Blood stained my fist, Tony's nose, and a little of the wall beside us. Thor sailed into the hallway, stealing Tony back and away from me. Cap continued to shout, and suddenly I could hear again. The whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of my own blood flowing behind my ears finally flooded away.

"Clint, let him go. Open your fist, and let him go. It's done, Clint. Let him go," Steve's voice was high, though calm. My grip slackened and Stark hit the floor on his back. Thor pulled him away by the arms and helped him to his feet. The Maximoff girl and Vision watched from a safe distance.

"MY FAMILY!" I spat at him. I didn't fight to pull Steve's grip off of my chest. In fact, I was happy to have something to struggle against. "HOW DID YOU GIVE THAT TO HIM?!"

"HYDRA knew!" Tony pointed out, tapping his finger to the trail of blood under his nose. "HYDRA took them, remember? They stayed here. Stark security systems everywhere. JARVIS everywhere. Ultron could see everything we saw or did and everything recorded in our systems."

"And you sat on that?! You let me think that my family was safe!" I screamed.

"I thought they were—"

I pulled out of Steve's grip, moving backwards with my hands pressed to the sides of my head. I couldn't believe what he dropped on me. My brain reeled to catch up. The gunshot in my side, the simple scratch I'd received when I should have actually died, pained me now. A string of curses floated through my lips.

Before Ultron came and before our team stormed the base in Eastern Europe after von Strucker, I introduced the Avengers to the family I had. It wasn't my choice. Laura and my son had been kidnapped by a bunch of HYDRA goons on Nick Fury's tail and the man brought that trouble right to my doorstep. We got them back, brought them to the Tower, and refitted the security systems in my home. Stark technology. Stark security. Supposedly off-the-grid.

"I trusted you." My words tasted like venom as they drew from my lips. I cut a glance over at Iron Man. It's true what they say about the higher you climb and the bigger you are. He'd come so far, and fallen so hard. I stabbed the heel of my hand into the elevator again, calling it back from wherever it had gone.

"Clint, we should stick together right now. Ultron's gone. Your family-" Steve said.

"My wife is pregnant!" I reeled on him, jamming a finger in his face. "Do you even understand what that means? You don't. You know why? Because it is _my_ family on the line _not_ yours."

"Look, I _do_ get it. And I think you should be there. But I also think Laura understands if you're needed here too."

For a second time the elevator arrived and slid open. Flabergasted, I stared the Captain down. I glanced back up the hall, found Natasha had limped up with the rest of us, and glanced from her to Steve. "Nat, you tell him. You tell him what's happened five times now. Tell him why we don't have a baby named Natasha, or a little boy named Clint. Tell him why I need to be home, not here. You tell him that, because I'm wasting daylight trying to do it myself."

I abandoned them in the hall and closed the elevator door. Fuming, steaming, red in rage, I gripped the elevator handrail with one hand and slammed my palm against the elevator wall. I never meant it to go that far, to say the things I did. They didn't need to know about the life before I joined the Avengers or the black clouds floating over my family's life. My kids meant everything to me, the ones that lived, and those that didn't. It was time to go home.

:(:):(:):

Lillian, Callie, Natalia, Clint, Jackson. The five children that never were. The five babies we had delivered, held, and watched die. The precious lives we fostered and loved, and built futures for, ones that were never realized. Dreams that never came. Lives built on bricks of air. I thought over those names as I drove through the violent rain storm to my upstate farm house. I thought about the few minutes, days, or weeks I spent with each one before the grim reaper came calling and in it all I wondered how long we might have to spend with Nathaniel.

Lillian was out first. Laura had trouble getting pregnant from the start and Lillian came through IVF. She didn't last long. I held her in my arms, a preemie delivered before her time. She breathed her last only two hours after she came limply into our lives.

Callie came next. She reached a little farther along. Laura and I allowed ourselves to hope again. I repainted the baby room. We picked yellow. Callie was born on the bottom step of our house at four a.m. she lived five minutes. Long enough for me to do CPR. Not long enough for the paramedics to arrive.

Cooper lived. We don't know how, or why. We'd stopped IVF. The first two scared us off from it. Cooper was a happy accident, one we'd waited so dearly for but never allowed ourselves to believe in. I stood by his mother's side, squeezing her hand and trying not to faint when the baby came screaming to life. He stayed that way too. My little man.

Natasha always wanted a girl named after her. Laura got pregnant soon with our fourth and given our recent luck I got excited too. She weighed six pounds exactly. We got her a Russian ballerina costume, a spider suit for Halloween, and pinned a note to her chest that read "Natalia Laura Barton" when we brought her home. I couldn't wait to tell my partner, our friend, and the best man (and woman) at our wedding. Then Natalia died. She died for no reason. SIDS took her only a short time after we had her. I cried more tears for my baby girl's death that day than for the men I killed under Loki's curse.

Lila was born premature and weighing four pounds. My wedding band could stretch from her fingers up to her shoulder, she was so incredibly small. It took months to bring her home from the hospital. I thought she died in the back of the blaring ambulance she'd been born in. She was a fighter from day one.

Clint died three days after he reached a full term delivery. He had Down Syndrome and we didn't care. He was going to be ours no matter what. There was a hernia in his diaphragm the doctors thought they could fix. They were wrong and he died on the operating table.

Jackson never made it to eight months gestation. He lived in a hospital for fifty-three days. He was jaundiced, septic, and he had a hole in his heart the size of a quarter. I was standing in my kitchen, the phone in my hand and Lila in the other when the doctor told me that Jackson was dead. There was nothing anyone could do.

Five dead for the two living. Five souls buried in the Barton family plot out on the edge of No Man's land. Five headstones I carved in my barn, five crosses I cut, and five caskets buried in flowers and dirt under that old oak tree. You could see the stones on the drive over the hill on the back side of our land. They were small and hard to see, covered in the shadow of the low hanging branches. I knew they were there.

Tony broke a bond between us. I knew there were somethings about him I never quite accepted and we reconciled that fact a long time ago. He knew that my loyalties lay on one thing, and one thing alone. Family. If the Avengers weren't that, if we couldn't look to one another and know we had each other's backs, understood our secrets, and everything else that came with it, then I don't know what we were. Ultron did more than tear us apart. He broke us and I didn't like it.

Passing under the shield Tony built around our home, into the holographic image he made to conceal it, I started his BMW on the long, winding drive that led to the farm house. Laura didn't recognize the sound of the car. She was waiting for me on the front deck. Our new baby growing in her bulged her shirt out and made my wife only that much sexier. The bolt action rifle in her hands, cocked and loaded, made me want to renew our vows right there on the porch. God, I love that woman. How she ever agreed to marry a bone head like me I will never know.

I climbed out of the car, grabbing the boquet of flowers I'd snatched on the road and bag of her favorite chocolates. The rifle dropped from the center of my chest to stare down at the deck.

"Clint?" she questioned, not believing her eyes.

I had a dopey grin I saved for her and displayed it now. "Calamity Jane."

The rifle clattered from her fingers and hit the deck. A bullet slammed out of the barrel and blew steam out of Tony's radiator. It missed me by three feet. She didn't even notice.

Laura sailed down the deck and across the lawn. I could see the tears streaming down her face the minute she got close. Her arms threw themselves around my neck and suddenly all I could smell was the fancy shampoo she used on her hair.

"They said you were shot!" she exclaimed frantically. "They said someone died! Clint, I thought—Clint!"

She repeated my name against the nape of my neck as she struggled to pull me against her. I dropped the gifts I'd brought so I might hold her better. News channels held little interest for me unless I wanted to catch up on what my partners were up to. In the four days it took to leave the Helicarrier, get my side patched, and decide to leave Stark Tower, I had avoided any stations claiming information on the tragedy in Sokovia. Someone must have started talking, meant to tell people about the Maximoff boy, Pietro, who jumped in front of fifty bullets and saved my life. They might have watched Cap find me, unconscious, on the transport ship as I bled out on the deck. He carried me as he screamed and hollered for people to get clear, all the way to medical. The ruckus didn't end there. Tony had a sprained arm. Forgotten the minute my semi-conscious body arrived. Natasha had been shot in the thigh. She climbed out of bed to hustle the doctors around me. Thor tried to keep others back, only so he might look in better himself. Hawkeye, the man who had everything to lose, the mortal fighting among immortals with a wife and kids at home to look out for, might be dead. It was a tragedy my team would have never survived. A good thing they didn't have to. Someone else did the dying that day for me.

I held Laura tight and let her cry it out. We both knew what risking my life everyday meant. It only took one mistake to keep me from coming home ever again. I forgot about her office I wanted to make, the kitchen I wanted to re-tile, or the bathroom I thought about expanding. I forgot about my in-laws who hated me, the babies we'd buried on the hill, and the fact that Ultron, dead or not, knew where my family lived. I just stood there with my wife in my arms, my kids shooting across the grass to me, and refocused on what mattered.

This.

No one else.

The farm didn't make us a family, this did. Laura would understand us having to move for our own safety. I'd wait until the baby was born, send the kids off to their grandparents, and figure it out with Laura alone. It was the only way I knew to go.

* * *

i just love this first-person from Clint. I'm not sure why. there's just something so matter-of-fact about it.

This story's style is shaping up to be a mix of Avenge Me and The Prequel. Half will be Clint's first person, and others will be a shifted perspective. I hope you enjoy:)

Again, please review:


	3. Chapter 2

Thank you for all the lovely reviews!

AvengerOfFiction: LOL! I'm so sorry you were in an awkward, no-cry-worthy location. I have a few readers who have complained of this problem. I believe it is my mission to destroy emotions and create public displays of utter breakdowns.

5mairer: i have played with this idea...but it would NOT bode well for our archer. Much, much pain would be involved.

ThePenguinApocalypse : Awe! Thank you!

WestonFollower: Why thank you for the compliments! I know, losing children is a terrible thing, but I feel like it really rounds out the illusion of Clint's "perfect" family. Clint was never given anything in life. I feel like this had to be a struggle too.

DatNatCatThoe: The bomb dot com is a new one! And i love it!

Niom Lamboise: Thank you!

JRBarton: I am so excited that you ae excited! Will start trying to send you some new chapters!

Batghost: Oh, Natasha... I may be playing with some interesting spins on that.

Ms. Hawkeye: you are correct! Clint and Jackson were conceived after Lila and were therefore not mentioned in "The Prequel".

amy. .9: very dark days ahead indeed!

discordchick: i could just imagine Clint throwing open his arms for Laura, then the gun going off and him ducking for cover. LOL. Oh I know very well your Brutasha feelings, And I give you full reign to let it all out! I will be trying something unique with that , to win you over (to the story, not to brutasha. I would NEVER try to do that to you). I've had this little plan about them all along...

Jokerang: sorry! but really, totally not sorry. I love EVERY minute of creating emotion in others!

* * *

 **The Aftermath**

 _Chapter 2_

Tony stood on the front porch, staring off into the distant gentle hills of grass bending with the wind. A forest line dotted the horizon where the Aven-Jet would have rested, if Tony had any sense to drag it out of the ocean Bruce crashed it into. The place felt oddly empty without seeing it resting on that familiar hill. Still, two months was a decent amount of time for anyone, especially Bruce, to stay away. At first Stark thought it might have just been a phase, a way to get Natasha's eyes off him. Now he thought differently. Natasha forced him to.

She might have appeared downcast at first, but Tony soon recognized a front when he saw one. She seemed relieved. Glad even. As if some little web she'd spun had finally worked out the way she'd planned all along. Her concern over him vanished. Her depression dissappeared. The minute she heard Bruce Banner was as far away from her as a man could be without leaving planet earth, she settled down as if nothing had ever been implied between them. Tony felt a little betrayed by that and called her out at once on it. After all, he blamed her for driving Bruce off.

The response he got, shocked him.

 _He was standing beside the bar at the Tower. Natasha spinning a cocktail olive around in her glass. She'd been taking it easy with the bullet wound in her leg, especially after Clint decided to head home again. Not one to mince words, Tony came straight out with it._

 _"So Bruce leaves and what? You're just gonna sit here and hang around until the next guy slips by? Planning to make another run at Steve?"_

 _She wasn't insulted, though she could have been. Her eyes raised above her glass. "You used him as your enabler. I got him his way out, like he asked. Case closed."_

 _Tony's mouth dropped open. "Way out-What?!"_

 _She dropped the glass to the bar top, stacked her chin on her fist, and looked completely nonchalant. "Tony, really. Beauty and the beast? He's a nice guy, but did anyone really buy into all that me falling for a the pacifist scientist? I'm a spy. I make people fall in love with me for a living." She shrugged her small shoulders innocently. "When I first recruited him, I promised him he'd have a way out. He wouldn't be tied here. You got him in too deep, had him help you build a robot army of death, and he couldn't find a way to say no. Then you took it a step further and made that-" she hiked her thumb in Vision's direction. The living JARVIS A.I. lifted his head from a book on the etiquette of 18th century gentleman. "Can we say history repeats itself? You were bad for him, and he was bad for you. Someone had to get you guys to split before you did something stupid together."_

 _Natasha slid off the bar stool, grabbed her glass, and began to head for her room. "Be glad I did this now before you really did build a suit of armor for the world. You probably would have blotted out the sun and killed us all."_

Tony tried to shake off those thoughts. Natasha was an enigma all right. Black Widow suited her perfectly, though at first he never knew why. Now he had a very keen impression of the powers she had, and not just the ones she fought with. She had a mental prowess he could hardly wrap his own brain around. She fooled them, all of them, if only to keep a passing promise.

A thump of boots along hardwood floors drew his attention away from the gentle landscape. He caught Thor's expression.

"Nothing?" Tony asked.

"It seems our friend has left the comforts of his home," Thor replied, folding his arms. He looked around the layout of Clint's land. The barn door swung open on its hinges, occasionally slapping against the doorway as the wind blew through. Most of the place had been cleared out. The cabinets were emptied, the bedrooms abandoned, the barn itself contained nothing but the remains of a long dead tractor. on the hill due east he could see the small headstones Natasha told him about. Funny how the first time they came up, he never thought to look at them. He simply assumed they were old, long dead relatives. Grandmothers and grandfathers who'd liver their lives on this old land. He never could have guessed the reality.

Tony didn't reply. He had some feeling that Clint might try something like this after they saw him last. There wasn't a particular word Clint shared, or answer he failed to give. Tony just knew. Natasha must have had the same impression. It was why she stayed quiet. Why she distanced herself from Clint. She knew he was planning to go home, and perhaps even make a run for it. Maybe this was for the better in the end.

"I guess there is little likelihood we might uncover him again." Thor sighed, leaning on the doorway. He glanced down at the box he'd brought along. Pepper sent Thor and Tony ahead of the rest of the team. They brought gifts for Nathaniel, Clint's new son.

It might have taken a long, deep, conversation with an unwilling Natasha Romanov, but finally the Avengers understood the reality of what Clint's family meant to him. Thor thought he understood it once. After all, Asgardians spent their lives fostering the investment of their children and building better lives for the generations to come not only on Asgard but other realms as well. To lose an heir, to lose five. . . Thor closed his eyes against the pain.

"We cannot blame him for saving what little he has," Thor said quietly.

"I know," Tony replied, dropping down the steps. He stood in the gravel drive and looked at the age old tire tracks. His mind considered all ridges, the sweeps of dust blowing them down, and the tracks from coyotes and birds crisscrossing through them. At least five days old and maybe more.

"Where do you think he has gone?"

Tony dug his foot into the tire marks, scattering their shapes. "Who knows. He's a spy. He's used to disappearing. He'll show up when he needs to."

Thor picked up the box of things for the Barton kids. He'd even brought a little suit of Asgardian armor, something he'd been given from Sif's youth, for Lila Barton to own. The child had an odd sort of fascination with Thor. No one discouraged her. After all, they thought she was cute. He'd missed his last chance to see her when Clint invited the team to Laura's hospital. He was on Asgard for Nathaniel Pietro's birth. A few days after the family had a chance to settle down, the invite went out. No one anticipated it might be the last time they ever saw the family Clint kept hidden.

Tony went. Natasha, Steve, Pepper, and Hill drove out too. They met the newest Barton addition first in Clint's arms. The proud father sat in the arm chair by Laura's bedside. Apparently the birth had been just as exciting as all the rest. Born three weeks early and backwards, Nathaniel stole into the world hand-delivered by his father in the back of the family car. They reached halfway to the hospital when it happened by surprise. To everyone's happiness, Nathanial was healthy as a full-term baby. If he hadn't been, at least the Bartons had plenty of experience.

Clint didn't look up at the team when they walked in. The first official Avengers' baby, wrapped in a green and white blanket, had the face of his mother and the nose of his father. His face wrinkled and contorted in a contented yawn. Clint's ball cap was set low on his forehead and made it hard to see the new father's face. Tony had never seen that expression on a man before. The one of total and unashamed love. It wasn't his disdain for what mistakes the team made which kept him from acknowledging their presence, Clint was too enraptured by the new life he helped create and all those dreams he had hinging on Nathaniel.

When he finally did look up at them, it came with a mixture of shock and confusion. A smile spread over him, he laughed, spilling over in questions. When did they arrive? How long had they been standing there? Stop looking like a bunch of tourist and come hold my kid...

Tony felt honored to be in that room. He didn't even like kids, but holding the miniature Barton in his arms, all that perceived dislike simply faded away into oblivion. It didn't matter anymore. His friend, his teammate, was a father three times over. Eight, if you considered all the bad luck. This would be their last and Clint planned to enjoy every last minute of the boy's childhood.

Around that time Phil Coulson walked in. He had a handful of balloon strings in one hand and a bear the side of his torso in the other. He was all smiles, flustered movement, and excitation until, after disentangling himself from Cooper on one side and Lila on the other, he noticed that he was not the only visitor that day. His mouth came open a little in surprise until he mustered a look toward Laura.

 _"I thought you said come Tuesday?!"_ It didn't matter now. His visit had successfully coincided on the same day of the Avengers. Whatever secret he thought he entertained about his own existence, was up.

Tony stood beside his car, still taking in the beauty of the landscape surrounding them on all sides. It took a lot for Clint to give this home up. More than the Avengers might ever know. He raised his kids here. Buried them here. Felt his only stability in life on this patch of land he endlessly carved out. One mistake, Tony's mistake, tore that away from him forever.

"Is that door post still around back, or did he take it?" Tony asked.

Thor appeared confused. He open the back door to Tony's car and dropped the box of gifts inside. "What do you refer to? Why might he take it?"

"He had lines drawn on it. The height of Lila and Cooper over the years. It's something parents do, I guess. Mine never did. Maybe his did."

Thor sat his elbows on the top of the car. "That is something I would not consider true. His family was not the highlight of his past, as he once told me."

Curious, Tony turned to him.

Thor shrugged. "His father was prone to drink. He lost both of them very young. An accident involving ale, a tree and," he thumbed his fingers on the top of Tony's car. The implication was evidence enough. Drunk driving accident.

"When did that happen?"

"As I said, he was quite young. He was raised in a home for boys without parents. Which is why he did not stay, and why he became the man we know of now. You knew nothing of this?" Thor appeared surprised, as if he had assumed Tony had once been party to the conversation.

"No, I didn't. I guess there weren't a lot of things I did know about him." Tony's phone signaled him, drawing his eyes away from the once-paradise that had been Clint's reclusive safe house. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and checked the caller I.D. Before answering it, he glanced Thor's way. "Cap."

Thor shrugged.

"Go ahead, Rogers," Tony said, pressing the phone to his ear.

 _"You on your way back from Clint's place yet?"_ His tone held a sharpened edge, like a sword honed by a skilled blacksmith. Instantly Tony tensed. His heart felt hard and cold.

"Not yet. Clint's not here either. He cleared the whole house out." Tony pulled the phone away from his ear, hit the speaker, and laid it on the roof of his car. Thor closed in to listen.

 _"Where is he?"_

"Got me, Cap. What's up?"

Steve paused on the other side of the line, issuing orders to someone they couldn't see. It might have been Wanda or Sam. His voice returned, more piqued than before. _"This isn't the time to go AWOL. I need boots on the ground. We received a credible threat. A big one."_

"What sort of threat?" Thor asked.

 _"There's a SHIELD training exercise going on at a base in Montana."_

"And your point is?" Tony replied.

 _"My point is, someone by the name of Phil Coulson just called us in. I don't know about you, but the last time he called, it was because Strucker had the Scepter."_

Tony and Thor's eyes met. Steve had a point, and a good one at that. Phil Coulson came back into the limelight following the messy fallout of Sokovia. As Director Fury's longtime wingman, it made sense that should he call the Avengers in, the matter must be taken seriously. A thousand scenarios ran through their minds. Things that could have gone wrong. A backdoor program Ultron created. A new army of robots, an Infinity Stone…

"Glad I brought a suit. Send me the location, I'll lead us there. Pick you up on the way?" Tony asked.

 _"Forget it, SHIELD sent a quinjet. Coming in hot. Leaving the trainees at the center."_

Tony agreed and cut the line. So Wanda and Vision were sitting this one out. It made sense. They may have proved themselves once, and one had the ability to lift a hammer, but that didn't mean they were ready for the delicate tasks. Leaving them out of the situation was as the best recourse for everyone.

* * *

So the plot thickens! I feel so bad that Clint left the awesome farmhouse behind. I suppose it wasn't a surprise though.

What is the threat? How does this end up in Clint being on the run? What will happen to our heroes? STAY TUNED!

Please review!


	4. Chapter 3

Thank you for all the lovely reviews!

5mairer: You know me so well. :)

WestonFollower: I do hope the Barton Family is part of Civil War too! but only if good and happy things happen to them.

newsyd: Thank you so much!

amy. .9: I have now accepted my idea of Nat/Bruce as canon. I'm sorry, she doesn't fall in love like that. the hardest part about leaving the farm, i think, is their family left there. Can't exactly dig up the graves. :(

Batghost: Daw, thanks!

khaitosfren: I love that Thor knows little private secrets. It just makes me warm and fuzzy inside! And Natasha, awesome.

AvengerOfFiction: so many smiles. I just can't even contain it :D

ThePenguinApocalypse: daw, thank you!

discordchick: To guess what happens next would leave one utterly lost. Because I don't even know what goes on in this brain of mine!

Ms. Hawkeye: LOL! You are not the first one to say they prefer my Bru/NOTasha canon. I think we shall make it official from here out. LOL.

m klindt: So many little cogs fitting together. What will happen?

Niom Lamboise: Your wishes are granted!

* * *

 **The Aftermath**

Chapter 3

I parked the truck on the edge of the highway, far up the side of the mountain pass. The air was thin, brisk, and held the sharp scent of old snow and ice. I was waiting, impatiently, for summer to start turning to fall. With it came dying leaves, pumpkin spice, and the cinnamon sticks Laura added to my morning cups of coffee. It was her way of making sure I kept track of time. Losing a week, month, entire season had become common place in my line of work. Staying away for untold amounts of time then checking a calendar which professed Christmas came and went, was hard on a guy like me. I never wanted my kids to lose out on holidays home with dad. I made it my mission not to miss out this year. Thanksgiving, Christmas, and all those other things required a house. A house required work, and it took more than just me to do it. When we moved into the farm house, it was all Fury's doing. Neither Laura nor I had any choice in the matter. Now that decision came around again, we were taking our time.

It took a while leaving Nathanial, Cooper, and Lila with their grandparents. Grandpa Smith, Laura's father, couldn't get rid of me fast enough. No love got wasted between us. He hated my guts for marrying his precious, doctor, daughter. Me, a farm boy from dead parents, an orphanage, and a criminal record no one knew about just waltzed in one day and uprooted the old man's ideas of having a lawyer son-in-law. Sure he tried to run me off at the end of a shot gun, but I stuck to Laura like a lost dog. Much as he hated me, and I hated him, Old Man Smith was good to the kids. He spoiled them rotten, bought Lila a pony, and even let her keep her kitten, Odin, in the bedroom.

Grandma Smith had been cut from the same cloth as her stalwart husband, only she came with the permanent fixture of a martini glass, extra dry. She had four wigs, that I knew of, and wore them on alternating days to keep herself looking young and beautiful. I imagine thirty years ago she could have stopped traffic. She still does today, but for different reasons.

I might not have wanted to let my kids stay with their grandparents. Especially with Nathaniel still being so young. But certain priorities had to take Laura and me away. Being homeless surely counted.

"I wish you wouldn't sit so close."

I turned my head a little to look at my wife. Less than six weeks since a baby went ripping out of her and she still looked like a Greek goddess. Then again, I always thought the twenty extra pounds, swollen feet, and perfect hair were sexy too. She thought I was just being polite.

"I like heights," I told her, swinging my legs a little on the cliffside. She couldn't see from her angle, but there were half a dozen ledges beneath me at a decent enough size to catch even my idiot self should I decide to fall.

"Doesn't mean I do." She folded her arms across her waist and shivered. The mountain air was cool and refreshing. Like sticking your head in a new freezer after working out in summer. I gave a final look over the distant mountain peaks, low gorges, and endless pines. Lifting myself up, I went back to the truck. My leather jacket rested in the front seat. I reached through the open window, picked it up, and draped it over her shoulders.

"Thanks," she whispered, holding it tightly.

We'd driven from the farmhouse to her parents in Columbus, Ohio, then kept on driving from there. We had an entire country of possibilities, and no idea where to start. I liked the idea of wide open spaces. A chance to see things coming a long way off and a few sniper rifles in our gun cabinet. Laura liked mountains, the option to have good company of a city, but far enough removed to get out and enjoy life when she wanted. Wisconsin had too much cheese, Missouri made me terrified of tornadoes, Iowa held too many bad memories, so we just kept going northwest. We crossed the Dakotas first. Too empty. Headed into Wyoming, even emptier, and up we drove through the Beartooth Highway into Montana.

I liked the idea of Montana. Known as the "Big Sky Country" the idea struck me at first as a good one. I even had a bolt hole, kind of like a little free apartment for spies, tucked in Bearcreek and Cooke City. We would be within a day's trip to Canada if Laura and the kids ever had to jump the border. There were a few larger cities she could find a career in, and the schools were of a good sort for the kids. We'd be farther away from her parents, but then again Jackson Jamison Smith might just follow us out there too. He owned the largest egg production business in the country and could operate it from the moon if he wanted too.

"I like Helena," Laura said, passing over one of the brochures she picked up along the way.

I took it from her and opened the pages.

"They don't see a lot of patients. Not like New York did. There is a college." She pulled out a second and added that to my other hand. "Billings is bigger. We'll be passing through Red Lodge. It's a nice place, over an hour outside the city."

I looked at the two options, weighing them mentally. "An hour is a long drive for you."

"I only go in once every week or so."

"Still a long drive," I mumbled, looking over Billings. The city was nice, and she had a good point about Red Lodge. It had her view of the mountains she wanted and my need for wide open spaces, seclusion, and neighbors touting heavy artillery. People out here systematically knew each other's business and kept to themselves. The SHIELD outpost on 310 had been shut down for five or six years now. I liked that too. Already coming up through Wyoming I met fifteen families who fed us, wished us well, refueled our truck, and helped me change a tire blowout. They might look weird and all wear cowboy hats, but somehow I minded that less than I thought.

"Here's something," I said, sticking the Helena brochure under my arm. I unfolded one of the Red Lodge leaflets and held it between us. "An out-patient center right in town. Offer's full diagnostic services. Radiology. That might be what we're looking for."

Excitedly she closed in and checked the five-line infomercial about the clinic. Her eyes lit up. "Hey! Look at that! They're a satellite clinic for the big one in Billings! Clint, I think you might have found us a winner."

I refolded the brochure and placed both of them back on the front seat. "Uh, huh. You remember that when we get there, hot cakes. I found it."

She smiled, rounding the front of the truck to climb into the passenger side. I leaned across the bench seat and swiftly flicked the lock on the door before she had a chance to pull it open. Sitting in the cab, I gave her a cheesy grin. She had me pegged. I was a little kid, an idiot, and sometimes just plain immature. Laura was sometimes my wife, sometimes my mother, and always the one to keep me rooted in the importance of life. I sat in the driver's seat laughing while she struggled to break into the cab. For a short time, our lives were normal.

It might seem weird for a guy who spent the majority of his time on either the West or East coast to have a bolt hole in the middle of nowhere Montana. Then again, you have to consider the speaker, who isn't exactly normal. Spies enjoyed seclusion, and in fact sought it out wherever it could be uncovered. Some of my early years were spent running scenarios at that old time SHIELD base and, while it had been almost eight years since I'd been in the area last, my bolt hole was still operational in downtown Cooke City. It was a cowboy town nestled at a gate of Yellowstone National Park and covered on all sides by mountains, thick forests, and bears. My kind of getaway. Before heading over the Beartooth Highway, Laura and I spent a little time in my bolt hole resting up after the two weeks of driving.

We had the option of driving straight through the Beartooth Highway, through the mountains, and down to Red Lodge. Any map search will tell you it only takes an hour to surpass that mountain roadway, but the truth is it takes anywhere from four to six hours. First, you keep stopping. It's beautiful country up there in the clouds, surrounded by snow, sky, and little else. Laura hadn't been west of Columbus in her entire life. We both wanted to get back to our kids though we definitely took our time. I didn't care about stopping more often. If we planned to make a new life together, then she deserved to be happy doing it.

Second reason it takes forever, those hairpin mountain curves are seriously straight drop-offs. The one-lane highway, no guardrail kind of cliffs where you lose control and disappear into oblivion. I've got kids. I don't need to die in a car accident.

Third: tourists. Enough said.

Four: wildlife. Laura and I pulled off the side of the road for an hour watching a grizzly bear eating the carcass of a deer. I kid you not. Disturbing? Slightly. But it's like a plane crash. You just can't look away. She snapped pictures.

We had the option of dropping down the other side of the Beartooth Highway into the normal elevation of Route 212 on our way through to Red Lodge. It meant another couple hours of winding roads, downhill, and 25mph driving. The sun was getting low on us and frankly, I didn't feel like navigating in the dark. Laura suggested camping out. It's not commonly done on that road. Most people are in a hurry to get down to civilization again. The two of us tended to live at least a little on the edge. Grizzly bears be warned. I came on this trip packing heat.

It didn't take us long to set up a tent in the back of the pickup bed. We'd done it often enough now that assembly came easy. Laura set to it while I spied along in the wood for something to build a fire with. By eight, the sun already dipped down behind the mountain smoke. A blanket of stars peaked out through the thin cloud heads. If we were lucky, we'd avoid the rain.

"How's my mountain man?" Laura asked.

I looked up from the fire I'd stoked and the two cans of ravioli I had resting over top of it. "Man make fire. Man feed woman." I punctuated my caveman sentiment by offering a deep-belly grunt. I had zero shame.

"Well woman wants to see how man gets those out of the fire without burning himself," she replied.

I'd brought a pop-up outdoor cooking grate along and it rested about a foot off the ground, practically inside the fire. Already our dinner had begun to bubble. The red-hot cans were taunting me. In response to her ill will, I produced a metal spatula. I slid the flat edge beneath the cans and managed to only spill half of one on the ground before I set them both to cool on a rock. Laura laughed at me. I decided to blame her for my faults for no real reason at all. We'd never done something like this before. Not together, and not alone. Camping in the mountains, trekking across the country all seemed like things that newlyweds should have done but we never got around too. She had her career as a radiologist just starting up and I worked for SHIELD. It was hard to keep the rest of the agents from knowing she existed. Somehow we managed.

As the night drew on and the temperature started dropping the way it could in Montana, we made our way back to the tent. I only packed one sleeping bag. Yes, it was on purpose. After Nathaniel was born a healthy, happy, bouncing baby boy, and the men in the house officially outnumbered the women, Laura and I decided it was time to stop having kids. It wasn't an easy decision but in the end a sort of freedom I never expected to have, came over me. Her tubes were tied and that was it. With my wife cuddled up against my chest, my arm asleep under her shoulder, her drooling into the pillow, and me snoring we fell into the epitome of all real-life sleep cycles.

At midnight she jostled me awake.

She had to pee.

Women.

I unzipped her side of the sleeping bag and slid her the old Ruger 44mag. While I preferred bear spray and rifles as anti-bear tactics, the Ruger made her feel safer as she could hold it in both hands. She slipped off the end of the truck bed and disappeared into the brush.

I'd seen her naked. We had eight children together and lived in that farmhouse, alone, long before our first one took up a full time residence. Lights on, lights off, upstairs, downstairs, back of cars . . . you get the idea. Still, despite all the years we'd been together, and the fact that I knew her body about as much as my own, Laura absolutely refused to ever pee in my presence. I don't think the woman ever took a crap either. Ever. I don't know why she held those basic human necessities in total secrecy, and when I asked, I got nowhere. I knew she'd sneak into some private corner, far from the campfire ring, and accomplish what she needed to. That sense alone brought a devilish idea to my mind.

Four seconds after I heard her disappear into the brush, I jumped to my feet, scrambled into the truck cab and turned the engine over. It purred silently to life the way a totally rebuilt engine head can. Silently, sneakily, I drove our truck and tent out of the little cove we had and parked it down the road in a drainage gully. It took three minutes to do it, snatch the sleeping bag, and race back to our camp. By the time Laura would come back, the truck was gone, the tent was gone, and I was "asleep" on the ground in our sleeping bag as if nothing at all happened.

I waited in anticipation, snickering in my arm like a little kid. I thought I was the cleverest guy this side of the Missouri River, even if she did beg to differ. I tried to stay still in anticipation and not jostle around too much.

But then, things changed.

A shot rang out in the dark. I recognized the heavy report of the Ruger anywhere. I leaped to my feet, sleeping bag entangled around my middle and squinted into the darkness.

"LAURA?!" I called out, mildly afraid something actually happened to her, and terrified she might accidentally shoot me with the Ruger thinking I was a bear.

A second gunshot split the night.

This time, it wasn't the Ruger.

* * *

Clint is absolutely adorable. I just love how he thinks he's cute.

And, holy crap! what will happen next?

Please review!


	5. Chapter 4

_So Many reviews! Thank you!_

FlamesOfHestia: hahahahaha, yes, well, I am quite skillful in the "leave you hanging" department. In fact, I quite enjoy it.

AvengerOfFiction: I currently live in Missouri too! hi neighbor! No, not many tornadoes here at all, but this summer alone, I've hidden in my closet at least 4 times. Officially 4 times too many. As for your emotions, no. I plan to destroy them all.

ThePenguinApocalypse: LOL!

newsyd: Ah, friendly gunshots. It may in fact be!

WestonFollower: LOL. By this point i believe you know me well enough to be terrified. :)

khaitosfren: Clint is totally infatuated. I believe it might be because somehow he landed an awesome woman and he has forever been in shock over it, waiting for her to one day wake up and realize this was all a mistake.

Ms. Hawkeye: Oh, you knew the cliffhanger was coming. there is no way for me to resist. I really love BruNOTasha. totally making that a thing.

ShadowPhoenix22: Wait for it... LOL! Aw, thank you for your compliments about Laura and Clint! and I love that it "made your heart cry". That was such a lovely thing to say! I always thought that Laura had to be tough to survive Clint.

Guest: Daw! I'm so glad I've helped you get to enjoy Clint and Laura! And Clint totally stopped aging at 12. You are correct. So many questions left unanswered!.

Batghost: Distracted Clint = recipe for disaster.

Niom Lamboise: Aw, thank you!

The Spoiled Duchess: hahahahaha! Updating when i can:)

discordchick: I Absolutely Love Montana:) Who indeed could find them?

* * *

 **The Aftermath**

Chapter 4

Tony Stark folded his arms. He scooted his chair closer and set his feet on top of the wood desk. Beside him, Steve kicked his chair leg and knocked Tony sideways. The scientist sent a glare his way and righted himself. The two spared few words with one another since landing at the base only a short hour ago. As beautiful as the place in the mountains was, neither were particularly happy about arriving and it showed on their faces. Thor, for his part, took one look at the both of them, realized that his presence wasn't particularly needed and decided to cut his losses and return to Asgard. At a time like this, Sam Wilson wished he'd had the same opportunity. Instead, he'd offered his services the minute Steve announced their might be a problem in the midwest. It was either ride along in the jet, or get stuck at the new SHIELD training base with the emotionless Vision or the introverted weird girl. Really, he had no option. While the team egg heads handled the majority of the negotiations, Sam stuck to the periphery of the room and analyzed everything. Probably more than he should have. He didn't get to enjoy watching the Avengers do this kind of thing often, and this case in particular was special.

Phil Coulson sat on the windowsill of his makeshift office, smiling excitedly at them. Most of the room not devoted to a few mismatched chairs had stacks of new boxes and files of paperwork. Currently SHIELD worked to form a new base south of the Montana border near an abandoned stretch of the protected Yellowstone area. He had his own crew of enhanced individuals under his care and keeping them out in the middle of nowhere, away from public eye, made the most sense. Tucked at the base of Amphitheater Mountain, on the Wyoming side of the Montana/Wyoming border, Coulson set to work establishing the new training site. Tony was the first to point out his misguided direction when the Avengers were "lured" into action. Wyoming, for all the similarity between its landscape with the neighbor state, was not Montana and if Coulson did not know that, he needed to read a map.

In his solitude, apparently Phil's team cooked up a hair brain plan to get the famous team out of the Tower and, somehow, it had actually produced results. The world over knew the events of Sokovia, and the particular difficulties in Africa before then. Bruce Banner was on the lam, the Avengers retreated to the Tower, new players were on the field, and suddenly the world felt as if it began spinning upside down. The SHIELD team offered a solution and named it: Project Diversion.

"So let me get this straight," Natasha said, popping her bubble gum. She sat beside Tony, her boots propped on the back of Iron Man's chair. Tony didn't dare tell her to stop. "You dragged us out to the middle of nowhere just so you could get us to go on a team bonding trip? Do you even _know_ me?"

Coulson nodded. "I know, and I do. Oh, Natasha—" he indicated the trashcan.

She raised her eyebrow, removed her gum, and tossed it in the trash. Coulson would forever be her first SHIELD handler and the only man who could remove her gum from her mouth. Somethings, she allowed him to boss her over.

"After what happened in East Europe, and after some of the events recently in the news, it's been suggested that getting the bit of you out of the limelight and reconnecting to those lovely team roots might be therapeutic. Give you an opportunity to be away from it all." He spread his hands out. "So here we are."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard," Natasha complained.

"And can I be the one to point out that a lie brought us together. you, apparently, aren't dead," Tony added sourly.

Sam raised his hand. "Actually, I think it's a good idea."

Tony shot him a look. "No one asked you."

Steve dropped his face into his hands. He didn't want to be present anymore than the rest of them. He still had a team to train. Vision and Wanda were by themselves at the new training center and Heaven only knew what they were getting themselves into. Fury said he'd keep an eye on the place, but more likely than not, he' be the first one to ship them out on a duel mission against the White House just to see what they'd do. Beside the point was Clint's now AWOL status. Heading home for a few days against sound advice was one thing, disappearing without so much as a phone call for six weeks was entirely different. He'd never been gone this long, and honestly, it made Steve twitch.

"Regardless of your feelings," Coulson said, "The reality is, the Avengers are a little hot. You need to not only take a break from destroying somethings. You also could use some decent P.R. Fury and I both considered this a decent plan. And, better yet, it's easy. Make the trip, get some pictures taken of team bonding, and then you can go home."

"So you're kidnapping us," Stark said.

"Yes."

Tony stood, grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and folded it over his arm. "I don't do fun. And I don't do kidnapping. I just lost a good friend thanks to your weird little spy. And we aren't even a team without Hawkeye here."

Natasha stuck her tongue out at him. "Stop being a sore loser. Besides, just because he doesn't feel like hanging out with you, doesn't mean Clint's gone. He's dealing with stuff."

"Hey, we all put in work to keep his place, secure. So you know what-"

Phil came around the corner of his desk and calmly stood between them before the fight escalated. "All right, look, I know it isn't ideal. I've reached out to Clint but we all know he's currently handling some personal issues. He'll join when he can."

Feeling that he had somehow been left out of a private conversation, Sam pipped in, "What personal issues? He doesn't even know the difference between Quiznos and Subway."

Steve, Natasha, Phil, and Tony all turned to stare at him. Sometimes they forgot how little he knew about the real Avengers that existed behind the scenes.

Natasha leaned back on two legs of her chair. "My leg hurts. I'm not tromping around in the woods playing lovey-time with a bunch of XY chromosomes. I think I put my time in already."

"Oh and you seem real torn up about that," Tony growled.

Her eyebrow arched dangerously. "I think you are seriously, mentally deficient if you keep asking me for a punch in the face."

Phil, still standing between them, waved his hands to gain their attention. "Ok, kids, I get it. Natasha, you are staying here. You three are going out with a few of my agents. Do not come back here before," he checked the date on his watch, "Next Tuesday. That means no public appearances, no blowing anything up and," Coulson grabbed the briefcase resting by Tony's foot and, despite Stark's serious protest, succeeded in tossing the entire case out the window. "Absolutely no Iron Man suits."

If looks could kill, Coulson would be dead. Again.

:(:):(:):

"I think this is literally the stupidest thing I have ever been forced to do."

"I doubt that. Weren't you the guy who stuck your finger in a light socket to prove the theory of alternating currents for your janitor?"

"That is completely irrelevant."

"I think it actually lends itself to a pattern of behavior."

From the passenger seat, Tony turned around to stare at Sam. Part of him wanted to open the Falcon's door and kick him down the side of the mountain. To say Tony did not support the idea of a group bonding was the ultimate understatement. He had already offered to pay the SHIELD agents fifty-five thousand dollars to set him at the nearest rest stop. The agents promptly explained that no rest stops existed north of Cooke City. Tony, offered them a hundred thousand, a piece, to take him back to Cooke City. Apparently even that was not enough.

Ignoring Sam for now, Tony turned his attention back to the man in the driver's seat. "Mike? Is that short for something? Michael? Margarine?"

"It's just Mike."

"Mike Weston? Have you ever been or will one day be a burned spy who lives in Miami?"

The agent smiled. He glanced over, eyes shaded beneath the cover of his aviator sunglasses. "I can't say that I have."

"I feel like I've seen you before. Ever steal any children and have their faces pasted on the back of milk cartons? Or maybe that was just a day time gig? You know, it is seriously quiet in this car. Don't you ever get sick of the silence?" Tony leaned forward and adjusted the dials on the radio. "Besides, I thought this little team trust fall was happening south."

"Plans changed. We got a call about some trouble along the mountain route. Some guy we've been tracking. He's not wrapped too tight. Threatened to do some real damage to fellow agents."

From the back seat, Sam said, "Yeah, we heard this line already. It's how Coulson got us out here to begin with. We know it's not exactly spot on either so I think we can all agree for you to drop the act."

"No act," the agent beside him said. Sam seemed surprise he had the ability to speak at all. Agent Gavin was a beast of a man, bigger than Thor with hands the size of dinner plates and tattooed knuckles, he didn't look like the typical SHIELD agent. He was an enforcer, the kind of guy that entered a situation after the specialists like Natasha or Clint, had already failed. Basically he was a human bulldozer.

"The boulder speaks," Tony said, not sparring a glance backward.

Sam laughed. He had plenty of complaint left in him too. After all, Tony wasn't the only man left without a suit. His own had been left behind in the same locked closet as Stark's. The only powered man among them now was Steve which boded no confidence in Tony's opinion. That wasn't to say this little training exercise started out empty handed. A caravan five SUVs long traveled up the mountain pass in a single file line. They'd initially started South, enjoying the brevity of a roadway through the Yellowstone National Park. Not bothering to even camp the night, the route swiftly changed, returned to Route 212, and for the past seven hours they had been driving straight into the mountains. The guise of tracking a man had gotten old, fast. Occasionally the caravan pulled over, chatted with some travelers, they returned to the cab, and onward they went. Nearing night with an intermittent sprinkle of rain, it was getting high time to pull over and make a base camp.

Sam watched the landscape shoot passed the windows at a blinding 25mph. They hadn't seen anyone along the road in quite a spell, attesting to the fact that most on the north-to-south route had pulled over for the night rather than attempt the push through.

"Here's something."

Sam glanced forward just as they passed a truck parked deep into the trees off the main roadway. A black and blue tent had been erected in the flatbed. Someone had the right idea about this place.

"Think we'll pull in too," Mike said.

Tony grumbled in his seat, arms folded. "Wild goose chase in the woods with Captain America, Iron Man, the other bird-guy, and a terrorist? What could _possibly_ go wrong?" He turned in his seat again, glaring at the big man, Gavin. "Fine. We'll play along. You're tracking this psycho threatening agents. Whatever. If that was the case, then give me back my suit."

"We've been given specific instructions to leave that behind."

Tony's eyes narrowed. "Well, you are about as fun as a colonoscopy on my birthday. Thank you for ruining this potential vacation."

* * *

Nothing can make Tony truly happy if he is determined to be mad. And truly, what can happy when the team is simply on a "bonding" trip? not much to bond with when there are only three of them. So what will happen next?! I think you have some sort of clue...:)

oh, I have posted a map of this route on my facebook author page for any interested parties. Just search my penname and you will find me.

Please review!


	6. Chapter 5

_So Many reviews! Thank you!_

AvengerOfFiction: Two reviews?! I feel so honored! I think it is awesome you and your friend can have such intricate RP story-lines! (let me go out on a limb here and explain my only real RP experience:) My friend is an avid RP'er. I am completely ignorant to the process. So I created a fake account, under a fake computer name, in a brand new tumblr page, under a new identity, writing style, and e-mail she had never before seen. I then proceeded to storm her castle, kidnap her main character, and set fire to her woods. It was a GLORIOUS week of waiting for her (my roommate) to realize it was me. Unfortunately it did end, epic-ally, one midnight when she discovered me. I have attempted other Rp's but find i have no talent in them whatsoever, so Kudos to you! Haven't seen the following, but am told that I should, and thank you very much for the name correction! Enjoy the camping!

Ms. Hawkeye: Who indeed?! So many unanswered questions!

WestonFollower: LOL! I am so happy you are enjoying it!

discordchic: I like Natasha with swagger. Reminds me of Cap 2 when she tells Steve she "only acts like she knows everything".

Niom Lamboise: Thank you!

Casey Storm: LOL, I was laughing when I wrote the gum line in there. seemed appropriate at the time.

khaitosfren: Ohhhhhh I have something in store with Mike...

amy. .9: I wanted to beat your timeline and update 12 hours sooner!

Batghost: OOC? OOC! GAH! (shamed author sits in the closet and grows mushrooms in discontent.) retrospectively you are correct. I have stretched the legitimacy of their reactions and bent them to my will. Usually a trait I avoid like leprosy in an armadillo. Your review has changed something, and EPIC something, coming in the future. When I reveal it, I will let you know. Thank you so much for the honesty!

* * *

 **The Aftermath**

Chapter 5

I rushed over to the fire, picked up the rifle, and slung its strap over my arm to secure it. I resisted calling out to Laura, instead following the echo of the gunshots into the darkness. I didn't know what to expect when I emerged into the clearing she had walked into. Seeing the beams of high-powered flashlights shocked me about as much as the second set of gunshots. I paused in the darkness, squatting in the brush with the rifle pressed against my shoulder and my eye down its sight line.

There were three men standing in the clearing. All of them held heavy duty mag lights. One's gun was drawn, a S&W revolver. He fed a new round into its open loader, snapped it shut, and returned it to his holster. He was smiling and did not appear to be a threat. Beside him the others were shockingly familiar. Yani Dougan, a Jewish implant into the SHIELD specialist program, had worked on a few cases that I was involved with about four years ago. He sucked at it, and three weeks after puking on a target rather than shooting him, someone granted him all his wishes and sat Yani behind a computer for the remainder of his career. Rick Gervis leaned on a tree to Yani's right. He was a book type, analyst, worked in Washington. He handled some of my exit flights to and from missions. The first man, the S&W wielder, I did not know. What they were doing on the Beartooth Highway, at night, out here, I could only guess.

"Lucky you only caught the tree and not my face!" S&W said, chuckling. He glanced over his shoulder at the tree. I could see the bullet hole from where I sat.

"I was aiming for a bear," Laura replied. She stood with her body turned sideways to the troop of three, the Ruger loose in her left hand and the right not far away. I taught her to stand that way, like an old west gunman waiting for someone to call out the word "draw!". It kept her frame small and harder to shoot something truly vital. Despite the gun being down beside her leg, I knew full well she could raise it and shoot any of them dead in half a second. For her benefit, the SHIELD agents were not aware of that fact.

"Glad I'm not a bear," S&W said.

"Strange place for you to be. All the way out here," Rick pointed out.

"Could say the same," she replied. I could sense the tension in it. She didn't want to come across as frightened, just unfriendly and ready to fight, not flee.

Yani took a few steps in her direction. That half a second went fast, and suddenly Laura had the Ruger raised. The 44mag aimed for the center of his forehead. Yani raised his arms quickly and took his step backward again.

"Hey, look, not out here for trouble. My name's Dougan. I work for SHIELD. This guy with the ugly beard," he pointed to S&W, "Is Jack Clemson. He's my partner. We're computer guys. Work out of a base down in Wyoming, not even that far from here. We're just out here passing through. Our boss is Phil Coulson. He works with the Avengers and, in fact, we have a couple of them with us too. We're here on a training exercise, that's all. We aren't exactly field agents."

"Sorry I shot back," Jack said. "I kinda thought you were a bear too."

"A couple of guys wanted us to start tracking, you know. Like late night kind. We're just out doing this team bonding trust-fall stuff," Yani went on.

"Then this guy turned us in a circle!" Jack hiked a thumb in Rick's direction.

"Hey, don't blame me! I was following Mike's tracks!" Rick shot back. It was sort of like watching the Three Stooges.

Yani interrupted the two of them. "We were driving up here on Route 212, and our guide got lost. We were supposed to be heading to a sheriff station or something. There's a dangerous man up in these mountains, you know."

Laura didn't drop her gun. Good girl. That's not to say I didn't believe Yani. I knew him personally and would vouch for him in a heartbeat. If he liked Jack Clemson, I did too. Jack looked like a bookworm, someone who should never be allowed control over a map, even if they were on a one-direction highway. I was more interested in the couple Avengers they had up on the mountain with them. For a moment I considered crossing into the clearing and introducing myself. How would that look? Clint Barton out in the woods with a woman who was not his girlfriend, wife, sister, or any relation? No one would buy that. There'd be questions, demands really, and background checks. They'd want to know everything and in some ways I wouldn't be able to stop them. Rick was too good at his job to not find Laura's true identity somehow, despite all of my precautions in life.

"You can't get lost on 212, its one road to nowhere. Try again." Laura's voice was firm. Her hands never shook as they stayed trained on her chosen man's forehead. I realized in that moment she could actually be willing to shoot to kill. Part of me swelled with pride, the other became vaguely horrified. After all, this woman was raising our kids.

Jack wore bottle thick glasses shoved far up on his nose until the top rims squeezed his eyebrows. He shrugged innocently. "I was just following Mike's truck. That's all."

"And got us stuck up here. Didn't you notice we never drove through Cody? All those trees and snow kinda didn't stick out?" Clemson seethed.

"Hey, it's not like I was the only one driving! And you got to talk to Captain America the whole time, so quit complaining!"

As the men continued the round-robin of complaints, I dropped my rifle a measure. So, Steve was up here. Strange he didn't come running when the gunshots sounded. Maybe their camp was farther down the hillside than ours. How exactly we managed to drive around half the country, park on a mountain, and decide to camp in the same spec of earth as Steve, I don't know. What I did know was I had to get these guys to scatter, grab Laura, and get back to the truck without getting caught.

I'd tell Steve about it later and we'd surely have a laugh over it.

I picked an innocuous target by a pile of rocks at Clemson's feet and had just about decided to shoot them. The bullet might ricochet, but that was a chance I was willing to take to get these scared men running. But just then, something pressed into the small of my back. It was short and cold, round at the end and sank in like steel against flesh. I've experienced that moment. That initial flood of adrenaline filled panic, the calm that takes over after and your mind just goes blank so your body can take over. Analysis, critical thinking, stopping . . . these concepts disappear into oblivion. The only thing that I could do the minute I felt that gun lay into me was react.

I never hesitated. Spinning instantly, I threw out the back of my fist and clubbed a guy in the side of his face. A gun went off, close range, and I wasn't sure whether the bullet got me or not. Scrambling on hands and knees, I tumbled through the brush, into the clearing, and tried to swing the rifle around by its strap. I was cut off at once by a scream.

My attention turned toward Laura. Someone stepped out of the darkness and slammed her sideways and into a boulder. She hit it shoulder-first. The gun dropping out of her hands.

"Barton?!" Clemson cried. "Mike, what are you doing?!"

I rushed over to her, helped Laura up and confronted the two new players on the scene. I didn't know their names myself, but I recognized their faces. Both had been dressed in HYDRA uniforms at a base the Avengers hit in a little Eastern European town a few months before.

The same base who'd compromised my home. Who destroyed almost every dish in my kitchen. Who sent my daughter crying into my arms after hiding, alone, under her bed for daddy to find her. Who kidnapped my wife, my son, and Nick Fury.

These men were enemies.

Yani started forward again, spreading his hands. "Mike," he said to the guy who'd tackled me, "What the Hell are you thinking?" His attention flitted across the clearing to me. "Barton, is it really you?"

"Of course it's him," Mike said, looking bored. I tried to shoulder the rifle, but the man beside us bludgeoned it away. I came at him with my right hook and he came down with a lead-lined glove. Being hit in the eye with a brick would have hurt less. I hit the ground, sprawled on all fours and tasting blood from a cut inside my cheek.

"Stop! Gavin, what are you doing? This is Hawkeye, you idiot!" Clemson cried, getting between us. He bent down beside me, grabbing one of my arms and helping me back up. His mag light came over my face and temporarily blinded me. In the distance I could hear shouting. The voices were too low, too far to make out the words. Whoever spoke was coming closer, fast.

"Gavin, get the guns. Gentleman, it has not been a pleasure working with you, and you have officially outweighed your usefulness," Mike remarked. I noticed, too late, he was holding a semi-auto. It all happened so fast. It's the rare occasion in a gunfight that the world slows down like they show in the movies. Suddenly you're staring into the hero's eyes as his face goes blank, turns white, then the mask of horror transforms into a scream on his lips. There is a cut scene, typically, to the weapon doing the killing. You watch as the gun hops back, the slider moving in conjunction with the elegantly squeezed trigger. Next, the golden jacket of a bullet leaps into the air, and you see the smoking pistol waiting to snap again.

It's not real.

In the time it took me to struggle to my feet, Jack died. The bullet entered his skull between his eyes, breaking his glasses in half. Yani rushed Mike, scared and confused, and received a shot to the gut for his trouble. In the dead of the night, the gunshots sounded like canon fire. Canyon walls reverberated their echoes far into the distance and the intermittent clouds began spitting a cold mountain rain at us.

Laura screamed, tugging at me. I reached for Clemson's sidearm at the same time he did. I won. I aimed the muzzle first at Mike at the same moment he turned his gun on Clemson. Laura stuck tightly against my back, shrinking down to keep her head covered. Clemson, disarmed, extended his hands between Gavin and Mike. I can only imagine how this must have all seemed to him. How confused he must be. The thoughts of his last moments on this Earth plagued me as I realized there was nothing I could do to save him.

"Stop!" Clemson exclaimed, shaking head to foot. He looked at Gavin, then to Mike, only sparring half a glance at Laura and me. "Will someone explain to me WHAT is happening?!"

Mike smiled, shrugged. "Hey, look. It's just business. I think you make some mean camp side flapjacks myself. But I had one mission. Capture or kill that—" He pointed in Laura's direction. "Disgrace or kill that—" he pointed in my direction. "It's a HYDRA thing."

Clemson's face turned bone white against the backdrop of darkness washed over us. In the distance, the shouting man began to form a distinguishable voice. Steve. Not just him, others. I counted at least seven voices. Soon this party of dead agents, HYDRA spies, and my family were going to be ousted all at once. I knew that look on Mike. The one that said he planned to kill Clemson if I didn't stop him and I was not about to just let it happen. I fired. His hand jerked reflexively and Clemson caught the edge of Mike's wild shot right in the shoulder. I spun toward Gavin. Before I had a chance to stop him, the massive man had lifted the side of a tree trunk and swung the entire thing all at once. Clemson went flying. He hit the nearest tree with a sickening snap and laid utterly still. Gavin's two coal black eyes glared at me.

I squeezed the trigger on the revolver to no avail.

The gun jammed.

Gavin reached out for us, missed, found the rifle.

Laura had slipped away from me. I always told her to get herself safe, give me enough room to work should a situation ever occur again. Apparently she scraped her hands along the dark ground until she came across Mike's dropped weapon. She didn't take the time to aim and simply fired and shattered the big guy's leg enough to make him tumble over sideways.

The distant men were beating their way through the tree line toward us. I had no clue who might get there first, Steve or more HYDRA goons. Even a SHIELD agent, loyal to Fury and everything he stood for would enter that bloodbath of agents and cry out for retribution. I could see them slipping between the trees. Curious, excited. I'd leave the HYDRA body for them to find. For now, I had to protect what mattered most. Laura.

I don't know why they dragged Steve and whoever else (my mind told me it must be Tony) up this mountain. We were isolated, alone, hundreds of miles from civilization and medical care. Maybe this was planned. Maybe they lured him up here to die and I'd stepped right into it. Maybe they'd been following me, following us, longer than I realized.

Steve could take care of himself. I'd find him later, get him away from the rest of the goons, but right now I needed to protect the one that didn't deserve this life. The team, or missions together, my own life never came close to her value. I just needed to get her safe, to Hell with the team.

I wanted to call to them. How desperately I dared to raise my voice into the waning night and scream Tony's name. To signal Cap and prevent him from picking up that gun against me. I wouldn't blame him. Couldn't blame him. He'd never know the man he shot at, the black-clad ghost fleeing into the night, was none other than his own partner. Hawkeye. Me.

I leaned down, snatching Laura out of the dirt and hugging her against my chest.

"RUN!" I screamed in her ear, urging her forward. She sprinted ahead of me. Light as a deer. I vaulted after her, hearing the boot clad feet of our pursuers stomping through the moon-washed night. At our backs, the rest of the men came upon the utter carnage of that clearing. Four bodies, one man down. Hoots, hollers, cries of desperation chased us into the wood.

I heard someone say "HEY!" and knew we'd been seen.

A few took pursuit.

"Stop!" I recognized Steve's voice, but couldn't see his face. Three men ran beside him, not quite keeping up but close enough to be a problem.

"Keep running!" I told her. "Don't turn. Go! Don't stop!"

"Stop or I'll shoot!"

I ducked beneath the overhanging pine branches. The needles stung at me like an angry wasp swarm. I ducked my face from them. I dared not raise my stolen gun to Steve and neither did I stop. The harder we fled, the further back we left the campfire's safety. A blanket of stars overhead threatened to give us up. The half moon peaked out from the bits of rain dropping down on us. Just beyond me, Laura could see the stretch of black top pavement leading down the hillside gully. The truck was parked deep beneath the roadside washout. Even if she didn't know I moved it, that never stopped her. See trusted my lead.

"I said stop!"

A tree lay over the path ahead of us. I caught up to Laura by it, lifting her in my arms and throwing her over the colossal trunk. She landed on her backside, bruised most likely, but sprang to her feet again and looked back for me.

"GO! GULLY!" I screamed.

She never resisted, knew well enough not to.

I grabbed hunks of bark in my bare hands and nearly vaulted over the blockade myself. I knew Steve wasn't far behind. He could out run mortal men like me. If he caught up, then our lives were over. He wouldn't know it, maybe none of them would. But I could never run that risk. Family first. Avengers second.

I had just about cleared the other side of the fallen trunk when the shot rang out. I fell on the other side, bounced my hip over a rock, and rolled down the embankment. Jumping to my feet again, I tore off across the glen, meeting Laura, and the getaway truck, before Steve could discover us in the dark.

* * *

So intense! I know. Take a deep breath.

Mike is dead. Yup. totally did that. Clint and Laura are on the lam. How many other agents with the Avengers are actually HYDRA? is there a real reason they were brought into the mountains? Does this mean HYDRA knows Clint has a family? And what about the kids?!

Like I said, intense.

Please review!


	7. Chapter 6

_So Many reviews! Thank you!_

m klindt: Oh, slipping, slipping! I blame this clinical year. it is truly the hell they have warned us of. Trust me, things do not bode well for our boy:)

WestonFollower: Two reviews! That was totally an after-thought line I added at the very end, just prior to publishing the chapter. somehow it just made me smile, so I had to add it! HAHAHA! I know, the Mike thing was my little red herring I enjoyed dangling:)

Niom Lamboise: poor Steve! he will not soon let this go!

JRBarton: Aw thank you! and thank you also for your constant support and little checks on my well-being. you above many know what a struggle this year is and it warms my heart immensely to know of your support and continued help!

newsyd: muhahahaha, Hydra strikes again! Your english was nearly perfect! I applaud your duel languages, that is a feat I have yet to accomplish (as is proper mastery of the English language itself, LOL)

AvengerOfFiction: Oh, I hope you were not delayed too long! Yes, i did enjoy killing Mike off given the many plans I'm sure my readers panned over him :). Intents had be laughing so hard!

Ms. Hawkeye: Oh, it will only get worse from here, my friend.

Batghost: Yes, yes it is!

amy. .9: Laura is absolutely lovely in my mind! I will likely explore more of the Barton family in-laws soon!

discordchick: those poor agents. I really did like them:). Poor Clint, not thinking straight in the dark! Sometimes he really can get in his own way!

* * *

 **The Aftermath**

Chapter 6

I swallowed hard, flexing my hand on the steering wheel. Laura sat on the floor of the truck cab. Her seat was pushed as far back as it could go, giving her just enough room to squeeze down and keep safe. I worried about Steve running after us. I almost wanted him too, at least then I knew we'd get him alone. At a time like this, I wanted, no needed, that assurance of who he kept company with. I wasn't about to pull the truck over and let the agents catch up to us. Who knows what they would end up doing to us.

I had to check what direction we were heading, up or down the mountain. For that I needed our compass. I fished around the seat for it, my eyes focused on the rearview mirror and the eventually headlights I expected to see. Laura knew what I searched for, found it herself, and dropped it in my palm. The overhead light flicked on momentarily while I checked it.

South. I cursed. North would have been better. The chance of larger cities, Billings, Bozeman. An airport. Chance to get away. South meant nothing beyond Cook City except Yellowstone. This sucked.

From her spot stuffed on the floor, Laura whispered my name.

"It's all right. We—" I closed my eyes, just for a moment, and forced myself to open them again. The road went hazy in front of me. I shook my head, trying to clear it but the haziness persisted.

"Clint?" she asked again, her voice raising.

I squeezed my eyes again, hoping somehow to inspire them to work. I wondered how hard I'd been hit by that big guy, Gavin. It was until my vision became dimmer, harder to clear, and when my head began spinning in circles, that I finally realized what had actually happened to me. The truck had to slow down. A bend in the roadway approached us, and suddenly I was filled with the thought of my three kids, Cooper, Lili, Nathaniel, all growing up parentless and being raised how I was raised. I couldn't let it happen to them. My foot switched from gas to stop and we began to swerve. A pit in the roadway swallowed half the right front tire and threw me against the window. Laura bounced up, screamed, and we careened away from the first cliff and into a copse of trees straight downhill. I clung to consciousness long enough to see the pine tree headed our way. Laura shot up, grabbed the wheel and helped me spin the tires. Our duel effort wouldn't be enough to avoid the trunk. We had little choice. It was either hit the tree, or fall down another drop off.

My body all at once stopped feeling. My hands, my feet, then my arms and legs, all went numb, limp, and my mind went utterly blank. A light began floating around in front of me and for a while I thought about chasing after it. I couldn't move. I tried to reach up and grab the floating orb, but it kept pulling away, bouncing farther down a path I couldn't find a way to walk down. It was as if I'd forgotten how to walk at all. A soft voice pressed in close to my ear. I tried adjusting my head, bringing it around to face whoever it was. A cascade of brown hair dropped down beside me. I smiled, vaguely recognizing it. It was an uphill climb to pull myself out of unconsciousness but the minute I did, all Hell seem to break loose around me.

The truck engine smoked. I could smell the distinct scent of burning wires and a deep-rooted fire brewing under its hood. Laura screamed, struggling to free herself from the floorboards. The tree we fought to avoid had smashed through the passenger door and now rested only a foot away from me. If Laura had been sitting in her seat, she'd be dead.

"CLINT!" she screamed again.

Fighting my body, I pulled at my seatbelt, found it had jammed, and reached down into my boot where I always kept my pocket knife. The mere act of bending sent a fire hot poker right through my side. I sat up again, gasping and pressed my hand against the pain. When I pulled it away, I found the blood. Apparently, Steve wasn't as bad a shot as I thought.

The fire brewing in the engine finally poked into the air. The orange/red tongues flicked beneath the seams of the hood and found fresh oxygen waiting for them. All at once, they erupted into a furnace. The heat burst across the dashboard, baking us alive. Laura managed to twist herself in place, reached into my boot and grabbed the bowie knife. Fighting the pain I reached out and took it from her. Within seconds I cut myself free, shoved the cab door open, and fell out of the truck onto the hard ground. I lay there in the dirt, panting and groaning like a stuck pig. Laura crawled across the driver's side floorboards and spilled out beside me.

"Clint? What is it? What happened?" she demanded, her hands tracing mine. They pulled away, stained in my blood, and her heart leaped into her throat.

"Get—the truck—away—explode-," I gasped, pushing myself up on my hands and knees. Laura threw a glance back at the now engulfed old pickup. She grabbed me around my chest, hauled me up. I stumbled over her and nearly lost consciousness a second time. I tried to keep upright, but my right leg kept dragging behind me. Laura guided us further down the hill, away from the wreckage.

A thick underbrush stopped us momentarily. The sound of snapping bark split the night skies. The pine tree caught fire. Damaged by the cars impact, uprooted half way already, the tree shook, tumbled over, and fell down the ravine, bringing the pickup with it.

I leaned away from my wife, trying to take the pressure of my weight off of her. My right leg attempted to support me, though it was deficient at its job. She came closer, bent down, and looked me over. Laura had been a late night trauma nurse for SHIELD before she was my wife. Fury, in a way, introduced us when he dragged me through her clinic one day years back. I knew right then I liked her. It took about a year to convince her she liked me too.

"I can't see anything in this light," she complained. "Clint you need to lie down. I have to look at this. Pull your hands away."

My back found another tree and I started sliding down it. The night around me went hazy and white as the bullet wound made me scream. Her hand caressed along the side of my face, and I settled. Her fingers worked my flannel shirt off, then yanked at the formerly white undershirt beneath. She pushed the fabric up my chest and I leaned my head down a little to see what she found. It was hard to tell anything in the poor lighting. A black looking puddle smeared around my waist, concentrating around my right side. Laura tugged the button of my trousers and yanked the zipper down. With them open, she pulled, letting my jeans fall off my hips. The second she did, I bucked backward, contorted my face and drew a hiss in through clenched teeth.

She ignored me. She was good at that. Her hands danced expertly over me, moving from front to back. They pressed against my pelvic bone, cruising higher as my body started to shake. She hadn't even reached the hole when I hollered again, pushed her away, and begged her to stop.

"Broken," she muttered to herself, thinking. She pulled my white shirt down again, took my left hand and pressed it against my side. To me, she said, "The bullet went through, unless it shattered to pieces. It got you in the top of your pelvis, might have gone through your colon. Clint, you have to hold pressure here while I go and get us some help. Understand?"

I shook my head furiously. "No, absolutely not. Laura you—"

She pulled away from my grip and started toward the roadway above us. I grabbed at the ground, using it to shove myself up.

"Stop! Clint, you're going to kill yourself if you keep this up!" Laura spun back to me. She dropped down, her hands forcing me to stay put.

"You can't go," I forced out.

A mind like hers, a doctor as good as she was, would not take that kind of order lying down. I had to explain, painful as it might be.

"Steve was there. He didn't know. He shot me and he didn't know it was me. He was with a bunch of them. He won't know who to trust." My eyes tightened shut. I kept my hand pressed tightly against my side. While I couldn't feel the broken bone beneath my fingers, I trusted it was there.

"Clint, if Steve is with them, he can get us out of this mess!" Laura exclaimed.

I shook my head vehemently. "Not if he's outnumbered. He used a gun, not his shield. He might not even have it. Laura, there are three good agents, dead back there. My gun is there. Our fingerprints."

"You think we're being framed for something?" Her voice was thick in shock and anger.

"I don't know. Maybe they followed us. Maybe they're planning to kill us. Laura, I don't know." I tried to force my eyes open again. Eventually I could see her. "Until we know, we're sure, we've got to stay away."

Truck tires grinding along a road echoed in the canyon. A reflection of headlights passed over the tree line just north of where we sat. The engines were loud, gravelly sounding machines chuck full of horsepower. Angry men sat behind their wheels and at least two of those men were friends, Avengers, who still had no idea Laura and I were in the mountains. Our cell phones went over the cliff. My spare gun, our supplies, everything gone. Exposed and alone in the cold darkness we sat and stared into the distance.

"We've got to move." I tried to stand on my own and failed. Laura wanted to keep me seated, tried to get me to stop moving, but when I was this bull-headed it rarely worked.

The tires screeched to a halt on the roadway above us. It was likely the agents uncovered our smoldering truck. I could hear the shouts of half a dozen voices as they piled out of slamming car doors. My finger nails dug into Laura's arm.

Run.

I fought to my feet. Forced my right leg up, in front of me, and down again. Pain shot up my leg from the bullet in my side. I buried my head in her neck to stave the cry I desperately wanted to let out. Shaking, Laura guided me down the hill, deeper into the mountain woodland, as the SHIELD and HYDRA agents hunted behind us.

I hated this. There were a few promises I made to my wife, whether I actually told her about them or not. One was about my life. I promised that nothing in my life, nothing in this stupid job I took would put her in danger. Work was work. It stayed there, never came home. For the most part my promise worked. I blamed Fury for my family's kidnapping. When Ultron hit, I brought the Avengers to my place, knowing it would be safe. Thinking it would. It wasn't until now I understood how wrong I had been all along.

Running for our lives from the very people I worked with, pledged my life to, hurt almost as much as the bullet in my side. I didn't know what we were going to do. I could only hope that somehow Steve might break away from the pack and find us first. Or perhaps Tony was there. He could scan the woods, find our heat signatures. Get to us before the agents could. I'd be able to explain everything.

My vision went fuzzy again. We were forced to stop. Laura set me down against a boulder and stooped down at my side again. Her probing fingers were like fire against my skin. I was still bleeding, hard. All this running around wasn't doing me any good.

She mumbled to herself. "I need a better way to wrap this. The wing is fractured. I can feel it. Might have hit the colon. Clint, how are you feeling?"

I missed her question. My teeth were digging into the back of my hand, helping me to endure her prodding. She stood and pulled me against her chest. I rested there, not moving, not able to speak. I knew all the things we had to do and couldn't. Find a car, drive to Red Lodge, sneak into an ER and get myself some help before I bled to death or worse.

"I want to go home," I whispered to her.

:(:):(:):

I eyed the bed greedily, limping across the berber carpet to drop right over into the queen-sized mattress. I was lucky the hotel owner remembered me, and even more so that he had my old room, just the way I liked it, and carrying all my necessities. Falling into a pile of goose down held no comparison to the comfort now spread out beneath me. God, it felt good. Laura came in behind me and gently closed the door. She set a bag down on the chair and began to rifle through it for some necessities. A spare pillowcase, ducktape, things she'd collected from the housing staff that no one would miss. The mistress of field medicine.

At first light we mounted the hill again in search of the main road. The last few hours of darkness had been pure torture. My side hurt. It tried its hardest to hold me back, but I knew that we had to keep going. SHIELD might send a jet at any time to comb the hills. The fact that Iron Man hadn't made an appearance made me less inclined to think Tony had come out with the group. That was good. Steve might be able to defend himself against a coup of ten armed men, but Tony was just a regular guy. Smarter than anyone I knew, but still that didn't make him any more immortal than me.

Reaching the roadside, Laura left me along the embankment and stepped onto the small two-lane street. Eventually she flagged down a couple heading south. Our story was simple and true. Car crash. We'd hoped after hours of coming up empty the SHIELD agents had returned to the crime scene to comb through it daylight. That meant my gun, and my rifle, were soon to be in SHIELD hands. My fingerprints might come up on them unless someone who knew me, trusted me, got hold of them first and buried the fact. So far we hadn't exactly been that lucky.

We arrived at my bolt hole around three in the afternoon.

The weight on the bed shifted. My right eye opened, watching as Laura settled down next to me. I know she planned to check me over. I hadn't exactly warmed up to that idea just yet. She had to check the bullet's track. Despite being a through-and-through we both knew something inside me busted free. Bones I never really felt before grinded over themselves and pinched a cluster of nerves. Occasionally they'd clamp down hard enough and I'd get an electric jolt of pain that shot right across me.

I eyed my wife, the gloves on her hand, and the bottle of alcohol she held. I tended to get into trouble on missions and kept a few necessities in a go bag just for such occasions. Miguel, the Super 8 owner, kept my bag in a downstairs locker for me should I ever wind up in town again. He was one of the few people out here with the impression that I was a spy. He liked the idea of being "in-the-know".

"Can we not do this and say we did?" I asked.

She smiled a little, but I could tell she was not enjoying this like she used to. I remember the first day walking into the old clinic she worked in. Laura was putting herself through the world's most intense residency training and spent her nights doing ER shifts for a SHIELD pop tent, or field medic station. I tried to come on to her day one and she laughed in my face. The next time we got together, she practically poured salt in my wounds. She enjoyed that sort of thing. Knocking me down a few pegs.

"Can you do me a favor and go six months without bleeding?"

Touche`. She won. I leaned up, tugging my shirt away from the flesh it stuck to. I winced.

"Just lay down and let me do that." Laura told me. She unclipped my pants again and tugged them down far enough to see my hips. Apparently, I didn't look any better from that angle. My body started shaking again about an hour before and had yet to stop. I felt a fever coming on, accompanied by cold sweats and all those things I hated about being on the verge of a septic infection. Being shot in the field was not as easy to manage as the movies make it out to be. It sucks, and I hate it. Case closed.

The alcohol hit my flesh like a splash of ice water. I shot up in surprise, then the burn followed and I grasped out blindly for a pillow. Laura noticed at once and grabbed one for me. I turned my head to the side and buried my screams.

Laura soaked a towel in alcohol. My red, swollen side burned as she cleared the blood away and disinfected what she could. Her hand wrapped around my back and the sting got worse. I bucked against her, trying to squirm away from the pain. Laura held tight to me until my side became so painful it just turned numb.

Then, she went in for the kill. Her hands pressed up the wing of my pelvis, tracing a line until she reached the bullet wound. My entire body spasmed. I couldn't catch my breath. She intended to probe the wound, front and back, should she find something even worse than just a random gun tract. She liked throwing the word peritonitis around. I'll admit, I had to look that one up the next time I found a dictionary or Google. In basic terms, she figured I had a hole in my intestines and they were leaking out. That alone tended to line up with my typical luck.

Laura only went so far. I guess she got tired of me writhing and soaking a pillow in tears. I'm not ashamed to admit it. You go get yourself shot (please don't) and tell me you don't feel the pain after spending a whole night in the woods.

"Clint, you need medication. Something better than asprin." Laura gently lifted the pillow from my face and looked down at me. Flushed red and sweating, I must have been some sight to see.

I didn't reply. I couldn't.

"I'm going to go see what I can find. I need you to stay here and don't try to do something stupid."

"No!"

Laura pulled away from me and slid from the bed. I reached for the back of her shirt to try and stop her, but she'd already moved across the room.

"Laura, no . . . you can't risk . . . stop—"

She wasn't listening. I had no idea what she planned to do, or how. Through my fuzzy vision I watched her strip off her shirt and grab one of my spares. There were no sleeves and she folded the bottom up her waist and fastened it beneath the wire of her bra. In essence, she made a crop top.

"What are you doing?" I whispered.

"Going to the pool. Maybe I'll meet a teenager I can buy some marijuana from." That was her, my wife, in all her glory.

"Avenger's don't smoke joints," I complained. Apparently, she did not agree.

While I laid sprawled out on the bed, mentally fighting off infection, pain, and the fever slowly taking hold she slid out of the room with her key card in a back pocket. I didn't see her again until she stole back inside. Her arms fed beneath mine, dragging me upright against the head board. Laura sat down on the bed beside me and extracted two blue pills from a vial she found and placed it in my mouth. I swallowed reflexively. I worried that somehow she'd found a pharmacy, put her name on paper, and written me an actual prescription. She was a doctor and had full license to do it. I also knew, Laura was smarter than that. She eventually told me the story. I shouldn't have been at all surprised.

 _Laura headed right to the pool, up the corridor and across from the vending machines around the same time half a dozen traveling RVers did. A gaggle of kids dove through the steam rooms and into the clear water. Summer vacation was coming to a quick close, a fact that weighed heavily on me. Our own kids needed to start school soon. Time at the grandparents would be short lived, if we could ever find another place to bring them._

 _At nearing four in the afternoon, lazy mothers and fathers trying to take a rest from the multi-hour drive clung to the outskirts of the room. Their feet were propped up on cushioned benches, some even wore wide-brimmed sunhats as if the tropics had made an appearance in the sleepy Montana town. Laura spied around the room at them all, picked her victim, and went in for the kill. She dropped down onto a bench by a woman wearing a white and yellow flowered bikini and reading a romance novel. The woman grinned at once._

 _"Looks like you're overdressed!" She exclaimed in a friendly way, the twinge of a Southern accent twanging her voice._

 _"Don't I know it!" Laura replied, falling onto the bench. She pressed a hand to her forehead and became an actress worthy of any walk-on roll. "Driving for weeks, not a single thing goes wrong. Then all of a sudden my husband gets this great idea to go off and play a joke on me. We were out camping and I leave for a minute to pee. I come back and he moved the truck. I guess he thought he was being funny. Anyway, the entire thing rolls right down a hill!" She sighed, shaking her head. "Men."_

 _The woman laughed. "Oh no! All your things?"_

 _"Gone. Thank goodness I saved my wallet, but I get the absolute worst migraines and off my pills rolled down the hill." Laura cast the woman a sympathetic eye, rubbing her temple dramatically, "He just gave me one big one too. I hoped the air in here might make me feel better."_

 _"Oh you need something better than that, Jenny? Hey, Jenny, hand me my purse."_

 _The woman known as Jenny grabbed the large, hulking thing and teetered over with her four Southern Belle friends. Hearing the retelling of Laura's predicament, suddenly my wife was inundated with a pharmacy for fifteen bottles of prescription medications. Apparently, they too had husbands who liked to cause headaches in their wives._

Laura smiled down at me and shrugged. "Apparently one of them has back pain. She gets a new script every couple weeks. She had two and a half bottles and gave me the half."

"What are they?" I asked, knowing it didn't actually matter. I was desperate.

"Morphine."

A look of white-washed shock passed over my face. "What?!"

She shrugged. "Look, Clint, we can discuss the legitimacy of a woman with back pain being on morphine later. Right now we have bigger issues."

"Bigger than me being shot?"

Her chin raised and lowered. "I was coming back here from the pool. I glanced at the front office and there was a team of fifteen men checking in, at least. I could see SHIELD logos on their uniforms."

I cursed under my breath and jostled myself upright. Laura moved back a little to give me room but continued to speak.

"You were right about Steve, he's with them. I don't think they saw me."

I edged my feet over the side of the bed, grunting the entire way. I wasn't sure how long the morphine would take to kick in or if it would even help this far along.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"Phone," I replied, pointing at it. Laura moved across the room and grabbed it from the small desk. She set it down beside me. "Pressing 2 dials out, block the number. *67. Let me see it."

The old phone base spun toward me. I focused on the numbers to make my vision clear. The first two times, I typed wrong. Frustrated, angry, and hurting worse, I shoved the base at her and fell into the pillows again. My hand held my side as I panted.

"Steve's cell phone," I tried to explain.

She set the phone down, punched in the number 2, then *67 and looked up at me. I told her the number and she listened on the other line for the ringing to start. I reached out for the receiver one it did. The line rang, repeated, the trill continuing on until I was positive either Steve hadn't carried his phone with him or just wasn't answering a blocked call.

Too tired to hold up the receiver I let it sit on the pillow beside me instead. "Try again. Dial again," I muttered.

Laura repeated the process. The phone began a second course of shrill tones. I mentally willed my teammate to answer. He had to answer. If he didn't, the minute I saw him again, Steve was going to get shot in the—

 _"Rogers, who's this?"_

I was so relieved to hear his voice I almost forgot to speak. Laura's hands flew up to her mouth. Salvation was in sight at last.

"Steve," I whispered, keeping my voice low enough not to be overheard by any others in the room, "Don't say my name. Don't look excited. If you know who this is, just say "yes"."

The line was silent for a time, then finally I heard, _"Yes."_

Relief washed over me. "Thank God, Steve, I need you to move away from the agents you are with. First look at them, tell them I am an old friend, and move away. Get to the window. If you understand me, laugh."

The Captain's hearty chuckle burst through the connection before he said something too low to hear. His ear pressed against the phone a second time and he muttered quietly to me, _"Care to tell me what this is about?"_

"Shh," I told him. "When you're away, tell me the weather."

I could hear Steve sigh, the scrape of a window, and a sudden gust of air distorted the feedback. _"It's not bad out. Little cold in the morning but the heat kills you during the day. How's New York?"_

"I'm not in New York, I'm in this hotel. Look, I need you to get away from the men you're with. I don't care what you tell them I just need—" I inhaled sharply. My mistake to try and sit up, then talk, all at the same time.

 _"Hey—"_

"Don't say my name!" I nearly shouted at him. Laura placed her hand on my arm and I shook my head at her. I was all right. To Steve I said, "Room 108, first floor. Don't be seen. If you understand, tell me about the mountains."

Steve paused again. I could almost hear the gears turning around in his mind _. "The view's all right. Lot of trees and bears out this way. Can't see much of the mountains this side of the hill."_

"Good, get down here."

 _"All right. I'll see you around."_

I handed the receiver back to Laura.

"He's coming?" Laura asked.

I nodded my head. Utterly exhausted.

* * *

So sorry this is taking so long! I have an original that is stealing my time, an Emergency rotation for the next 16 days, and only the single most important exam in my veterinary career (my certification) coming up. Please forgive! and please review!


	8. Chapter 7

_So Many reviews! Thank you!_

AvengerOfFiction:I love how you summed Laura up. Its everything I want her to be (and realize now that I truly want to be also:) I DO have to put that little twinge of emotion in there. Just can't help it!

newsyd: Oh no! I hate when reviews disappear after i write them.I am working on 3 hours of sleep. _

5mairer: Thank you!

WestonFollower: I love that line too. It's just so Clint.

m klindt: Aw, thank you!

discordchick: UGH Steve! We'll see what the Captain formulates!

amy. .9: Ah thank you for the tip! I had a total brain fart and forgot the name. googling decided to not be helpful. LOL.

Niom Lamboise: Go Steve Racer Go!

8839: Aw, thank you!

FlamesOfHestia: hahahahahaha! I am so glad you are grinning ridiculously!

Batghost: Thank you!

Ms. Hawkeye: HAHAHAHAHA

* * *

 **The Aftermath**

Chapter 7

Steve Rogers pulled the phone away from his ear, wondering how he possibly ended up speaking to Clint Barton. For all the Avengers knew, the man had taken off with his wife and kids, and hid somewhere in the country never to be found again unless he wanted to be. He might have even fled America all together. If the last twenty-four hours had been completely insane with activity, this moment topped all of it.

His eyes fell across the entry way to the rest of the men who'd come along with him. He had the keen impression from Clint's phone call that he was standing among strangers. Even worse, traitors. This simple training exercise Phil invited them on suddenly took another turn he could hardly have expected. In his mind, everyone was officially suspect.

Standing at the reception counter, Sam Wilson threw a look in the captain's direction. He smiled, bone white teeth gleaming in the hall light. "How's Dugan?"

"Um, yeah, he's all right." Steve had almost forgotten the lie he spun only seconds before. It seemed like so much had happened since then. Sam was trustworthy, but the men around him were not. Not yet at least. "I'm going to take a look around, maybe grab a snack. Want anything?"

Sam laughed. "When am I not hungry?"

"Why don't we all grab some dinner? Hours on the road sucks for everyone." A SHIELD agent, Mallari, offered.

Steve shook his head. "Not yet, I'm just checking the layout. Old army thing."

Sam would understand that, the way he accepted a lot of Steve's idiosyncrasies. The man nodded once and dropped the interest. Instead, he grabbed one of the keycards to their new room and passed it over to him. "Second floor, room 215. See you in a few."

Steve took the card and slipped it into his pocket with a grateful smile. He nodded at the other agents and stepped out the front door.

The August heat hit him like an open oven door. He paused on the portico for a moment to absorb it in, feeling the sweat breaking out on the back of his neck almost instantaneously. It was amazing how fast the temperature changed this high up. By the evening he'd still be hot, writhing in his bed. By three a.m. an icy chill dropped over the land like a winter storm. Suddenly he'd be sliding back into layer after layer of clothing and shaking in his boots to warm up again. The cold lasted only a few hours past dawn before the heat crowded it out once more.

The mountains were beautiful to see. He hadn't spent long in the sorts of landscapes he'd seen over the last few days. Rolling hills full of Elk, antelopes, and buffalo dotted their pathways through Yellowstone Park. Distant thunderstorms shook the landscape, sending strips of purple lightning into the valleys. Thunder rumbled through the trees, high up into the atmosphere. For a time Steve thought Thor might have changed his mind and joined them after all. Realizing that it was only mother nature, brought a peculiar calm with it. Steve felt like a tourist the way he enjoyed the sights. Maybe Phil had a point. The Avenger's had to take some time away from themselves for a while. Especially given what Ultron put them through. If only Tony looked at it that way, the trip might have been considered a success.

He'd been nearly unbearable the entire time. When he didn't complain about Natasha, he complained about never saying goodbye to Bruce. When that didn't seem like enough, he ranted about Clint taking off and missing out on their "boy scout" trip. Failing all other complaints, he continued on about the bruise Clint left on his nose. He was lucky that was all Clint managed before Steve yanked them away from each other. Tony glued himself to his phone, scanned the fuzzy radio-waves, and generally kept to himself unless he sought to garner sympathy.

The murder investigation was as unexpected a turn as anyone imagined. They'd followed Mike Selby's lead out of Yellowstone on their way to an old SHIELD base outside Billings, Montana. At first they planned going through the Beartooth Highway the following day, but Mike insisted that a camp out along the route would be better for morale. No one really repelled the idea except Tony Stark and since he'd been "kidnapped" he had really no say in the matter at all. Steve, at the time, liked the idea of a good camp out and Sam agreed. So up the highway the caravan went.

They pulled off the road halfway through the mountain pass. Another couple apparently thought the place a worthy stop-over point. Their truck had pulled off the road not far away. Someone set a tent up in the back bed and Steve remembered thinking how smart an idea that was at the time. The fire smelled good, like a staple of winter to a guy who was experienced in WWII cookouts. The caravan headed north through the narrow wood path a little way, giving the truck's occupants the privacy they surely wanted.

Steve could still hear the gunshots in the back of his mind. Two hard rapports in the din, quiet night which sent his hair on edge. Sam cut a glance at him over the firelight. Five agent shad gone out for a little midnight tracking. They had joined the trip for training after all. Maybe they got caught unawares by something, a cougar or a bear perhaps. Steve never expected the reality they'd stumble into. Four agents dead. The absolute bloodbath painted over the hills. One survivor, shot and unconscious, and their attacker disappearing through the darkness. Of all people, Tony pulled Steve back. He was worried about the big guy, Gavin, bleeding out on the ground. Tony held zero interest on chasing some hillbilly with a gun all over the mountain. Someone had to carry him back to the van and only Steve had strength enough to do it. Whether any of this had something to do Clint staying in the same hotel, Steve couldn't hope to guess. His gut told him they were related and he prepared himself for the very worst.

Steve rounded the outside edge of the building and made his way into a side entrance. Directly across the hall he could see an indoor pool a few families had made their way to. Kids and adults were diving into the cool water, splashing one another and jogging across the concrete. A woman must have noticed him, for she sent a friendly, and beckoning, wave in his direction. Steve politely raised his hand, but declined the invitation. Down the left hand hallway, a sign pointed him in the direction of the front desk he'd just abandoned. He went right instead and, before someone had a chance to notice him, he took a second right. The closest door number read 115 and decreased from there. At least he was going in the right direction.

He followed the inset doorways, reading their numbers as he walked and occasionally cast quick glances backward to be sure he wasn't being followed. Clint's call had made him both curious, and paranoid, all at the same time. He considered calling his friend back to recheck the room number. The only thing his phone displayed, though, was an unknown caller. Impossible to call back.

The hallway split in two at room 110. A small gym was built directly across from him and a series of three televisions displayed the mountain news. As of yet, no one had learned of the quadruple murder, though police were investigating the truck someone spotted burning down the hill. Forest services had been dispatched to check the area for potential threats of a forest fire, though they found none. No occupants had been recovered.

Steve already knew that. He'd jogged down to the smoldering wreckage himself after Tony already scanned the area. He had no doubt whoever else had been in the woods had something to do with the agent's murder. He thought he got lucky when they came across the crash site. Not finding the driver put a damper on his good moral.

No guns. No ammo. No footprints. No occupants. It was as if a ghost appeared in the night and caused the death and destruction.

Following the room numbers, Steve took the shortest end of the hall. The left hand side had a single exit door leading into a parking lot that existed behind the hotel. A staircase tucked in one corner led up to the second floor, and only two rooms existed on this side. 108 was tucked directly across from the stairs and beside the back door. If Steve had built a mental picture of a place Clint might hide, this room fit it perfectly. The only other room in the hall was 109. The occupants within sounded like they'd come to Cooke City for only one reason, to party. Their door yanked inward as Steve passed by and a group of three teenagers spilled out in a cloud of marijuana smoke. Noticing the big guy in the hallway, the three of them promptly erupted in giddy laughter and took off out the side door. The rest of the room's occupants hurriedly slammed the door shut.

Barring the party kids, the captain checked around a second time for any possible observers. Finding none, he leaned into the door and knocked once. He stepped back to allow Clint to see him through the peephole. Otherwise it was likely his fellow Avenger would never let him in.

The door pulled inward a fraction and stopped by a metal deadbolt. To Steve's shock, Laura Barton stared out at him.

"Are you alone?" She asked hurriedly.

At a lack for words, Steve could only nod his head. The door shut, the dead bolt swung back, and the door opened again. Laura stepped aside and ushered him in. A moment later, she re-locked the door.

Steve turned on her. "Laura, what are you doing here? I thought I was meeting Clint."

"I know, I'm sorry. We had to call. I didn't know what to do, he's over there." She quickly explained, moving in front of him toward the far bed. Steve followed her in. Clint was half propped up by whatever pillows they could find, shirtless, and tied in a bloody cloth around his middle. Steve started forward, rounded the unused spare bed, and dropped instantly at Clint's side.

"What happened?!" he exclaimed, searching Barton's face for answers. He glanced down at the wrap, imagining what sort of injury lay hidden under there. His hand found its way into Clint's and squeezed down.

"Cap," Clint managed to say. The morphine took a little time to work, but the grogginess he initially fought began to overcome him. Seeing the captain was an added relief though short lived as it was. His eyes grew heavy and his body gave out. Apparently he'd had enough.

"Clint? Can you hear me?" Steve looked up at Laura as Clint's consciousness slipped away from him. "Is he all right? What's wrong with him?"

She tugged Steve's arm, pulling him away. "I think the morphine's finally kicking in," she explained quietly.

"Morphine?"

"I'll explain, let's let him sleep. He needs it." Laura tugged his shirt again, and taking a final look toward his teammate, Steve agreed to move away. She opened the adjacent bathroom door and the two of them entered in. The door swung shut. Laura's guise of being in control dropped almost instantaneously. She collapsed on top of the closed toilet seat and let her head fall into her hands. Steve bent down beside her, grabbing the woman's shaking shoulders.

"Thank goodness you answered, I didn't know what I was going to do if I had to move him myself. I can't carry him. I tried last night, but I just couldn't move him on my own. He needs a hospital, he probably needs surgery, and I don't know how to get him there." Laura's head lifted. "What are we going to do?"

Steve tried to keep his voice low and calm despite the jackrabbit of questions hopping around in his mind. "Ok, Laura, do me a favor and just catch me up on what's happening here. You and Clint left the farmhouse, that's all I know. Are the kids here? Do you need me to get them?"

Laura shook her head swiftly. "No, no, my parents. They're ok. I think they're ok. I want to call them but I don't want to risk it."

Steve's hands moved from her shoulders to her knees. "You left the kids at your parent's house. Is that around here?"

Another shake. "Ohio."

He was surprised. Given their history with young children, Steve didn't imagine much could take the Barton parents away from Nathaniel at so critical a time. "Laura, tell me how you got here."

She inhaled deeply, her shaking decreasing. "Of course, I'm sorry, it's just so much has happened. I don't even know what to think anymore. I'm so worried about him. I'm usually more level headed than this."

"It's fine," Steve said, dispelling her concerns. "Look at me, it's going to be ok. I'm here now and that means I can help. Are you two in some kind of trouble?"

"It was my fault. I just left for a minute, that's all, and Clint thought he was being funny. I know he—" Laura broke into a sob. For a moment Steve wasn't sure what to do. In many ways he felt like he knew the woman. One mission he returned from had her taking authority right out of his hands and into her own, forcing Steve to question his own legitimacy as a leader. She had always been cool under pressure, even after being kidnapped and held by HYDRA. He didn't think there was another woman like her, except one long ago, his Peggy. Seeing her breakdown in front of him was so wholly uncharacteristic, he lost his good sense and stumbled around the countertop for a box of tissues. He settled for a hand towel instead and handed it over sympathetically.

"I know I'm keeping you too long. They'll wonder where you are. They might look for you," she said with a terror in her eyes.

"That's not a bad idea. I can call—"

Her fingers shot forward, clamping over his phone. "NO!" she exclaimed frantically.

Steve dropped the phone as if it had been possessed. The device hit the floor, breaking into its three components of battery, back cover, and everything else. "No calls," he added hurriedly, "I promise, no calls."

She settled again. "I'm sorry, I'm not making any sense. I should have waited to give Clint those pills, but he was in so much pain, I needed to help him. He could have explained it better than I could. I don't even know how this happened. We were just looking for a new house. That's all we wanted!"

Steve tried to piece together the pieces of the story he could understand. "So, you and Clint left the kids at your parent's house after packing up the farm. You drove out here. You left Clint and what happened next? Did he get himself into trouble with someone?"

"No, God no, that's what I'm trying to say. This was my fault. I should have just stayed with him and none of this would have happened! He's always told me to stick close, I just don't know what came over me. It only takes one mistake, that's what he's told me about his missions. One mistake and it could all go wrong."

Steve fought off his frustration. Laura was right. She wasn't acting like herself at all. "I need you to take a deep breath for me, and stop talking for a minute. Can you do that?"

Her bottom lip quivering, Laura stopped and took a short, shaking breath.

"That's not good enough. I need you to take in one good, deep breath. Do it with me." Steve inhaled, Laura did too. They held the breath together for a few moments and slowly let it out. Before he let her try again, Steve repeated the process. After five or six more tries, the woman at last seemed to give in.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be. There's nothing to be sorry for. Just go over the story again so I can know what to do. You and Clint left the kids—"

Her head bobbed. She dabbed her eyes dry with the towel and raised her chin. That spark of Laura Barton, the wife who shot a sniper rifle out of her farm house window against HYDRA goons, reemerged. "That's right. We packed up the house and shipped everything to my parents. No return address so it couldn't be traced to us. We drove through the night and left the three of them together. Lila carried Odin the whole way on her lap," Laura smiled at Steve. "She really loves that cat."

Steve smiled back encouragingly. "I'll let Thor know. I'm sure he'd be happy to find that out."

"After we left the kids, Clint and I looked around the country a bit for a new place. I didn't want to be too close to my home, and neither did he. Should we get too used to driving back and forth. I wanted to keep my parents safe, at a distance. Neither of us liked the Dakotas and tornadoes frighten Clint after living in Iowa for so long, so we didn't want to be in the Midwest. I suggested Colorado. We went through South Dakota and crossed into Wyoming. We both liked it here. Clint thought being close to Canada, like we were at the farm house, was a good contingency plan."

Now things were fitting together. "You decided to head north and ended up here."

"For a little while. This is one of Clint's bolt holes. He keeps a bag of supplies here."

That surprised him. "In this small town? Why?" then it dawned on him. The old SHIELD base he and the rest of the agents were driving toward wasn't that far away, only a few hours on the other side of the mountains. If Clint had ever been caught south, he'd want a place to crash without worrying about it. "Never mind, I got the idea. Did he get into a fight with someone in town?"

"No, we were fine here. I picked up a new map of Montana. We were heading over the Beartooth next, and I wanted to see our options for work. I need to be near a hospital. We left town and took the truck up the pass. We stopped a lot, and we left late, so Clint decided to stay on the mountain overnight. I think he sort of planned it that way. He likes it out here," she added the last part with a measure of tenderness returning to her voice. Steve wondered after this ordeal whether or not Clint's opinion on the place might alter. It might have been her thought as well.

"Did you camp out?"

"In the truck bed. I set up the tent and he made the fire. He set us up ravioli and—"

Steve had been squatting down in front of her, but the words threw him backward. He sat on the floor, his back against the bathroom door and the color completely drained from his face. The truck. The tent. The fiery crash. The wreckage he searched through himself. The man running in the dark . . .

"I shot him?" Steve's voice dropped into a breathy shutter. "I shot Clint?"

Seeing she might lose his focus, Laura quickly spilled the rest of the story, describing the events in the dark and how she'd come across the men, the shot she'd taken and the one they fired back. Steve filled in the details where he knew them. Their own team saw the truck and pulled off north of Clint's camp. Five went into the woods. The minute the shots went off, Steve and Tony headed the search after them. Steve reached the scene first, saw the blood, the man running. He assumed and took a shot.

If he'd tried hard he might have killed the man.

He might have killed Clint. That was unforgivable.

"I never saw his face. I wanted to stop him, so I took the shot. If I'd known, I never would have done it." Steve was mortified.

"I know that," Laura said gently, "and Clint does too. He knew those agents were HYDRA and he thought they might know me. He saw them at the base where they had me. It terrified him."

This new revelation had Steve's mind spinning. "Wait, HYDRA? Is that what he said? How many others did he recognize?"

"We haven't seen any of the others. After we lost the truck, we hitched a ride here. Clint wanted to call, he thinks this is all a set up. That they lured all of us out here to separate the team and kill them. He was afraid someone might trace the call."

Unable to take the news sitting down, Steve got to his feet. There wasn't much room to pace given his long stride but he made due with one and a half steps to the right and a following one and a half steps left. The psychopath in the mountains Mike told them all about, the change of plans driving them out of Cooke City, all of it started falling into place and Steve didn't like the picture it formed. Natasha stayed behind on base. No one was watching her back. Maximoff and Vision held down the construction on the new Avengers' training center. Neither were organized enough to fend off an attack. Tony had no suit. Falcon had no wings. Clint was shot. Thor left.

Steve let a voluntary curse slip out. Given the present company, he looked down at Laura and said, "Sorry."

"No, you're right. It sucks. Cap, what are we going to do?"

That was the question, wasn't it? Steve stopped pacing and rubbed his forehead, inspiring his brain to think. "How badly did I shoot him?"

Laura didn't respond right away. Steve had a sense that she'd rather not embarrass him or blame him.

"You can tell me," he consoled. "Look, you aren't bashing my ego or knocking me down. I screwed up. I shot a man in the dark, and that was my fault. I need to know if I have to call in a helicopter and get Clint out of here. If he's going to die in the next hour."

To that, she shrugged slightly. "It's hard to say. His ilium—the wing of his pelvis— is fractured. I know that for certain. Part of his colon sits in that same spot. If he was leaning to the opposite side at the time, maybe his organs moved away and the bullet went straight through, but I need tests, a CT scan, or to open him up in order to know."

Steve paled a second time. "I could have ruptured his organs?" The minute the question left his mouth, he held his hand up, preventing an answer. If he felt guilty before, now he was consumed by it.

"You can't call a helicopter. If whoever you are with are trying to get to him, to us, then they will know the minute it takes off. They might even pilot it themselves."

She was right. Then again, she and Clint probably spent the entire night spinning their conspiracy theories while Steve was out there helping whatever HYDRA agents remained among them hunt his friend down. They needed a different tactic.

"Have you eaten anything?"

Laura's expression changed, questioning him without uttering a word.

"I'm going to go upstairs with the rest of the team, get Tony and Sam alone, and say we're heading to dinner. I'll pick up something to go, bring it back here, and the four of us will figure something out. We're stronger together."

She agreed.

"Good. Stay here and stay low. I'll be back as soon as I can. We might be driving through the night, so try and get some rest." He picked up the scattered pieces of his cellphone and returned them to his pocket, not bothering to fix it just yet. He opened the bathroom door and re-entered the main room.

Clint slept restlessly in the bed. Steve moved beside him again, checking his teammate over. A cold, hard slap of reality smashed across his face. To think of what he'd done . . . Steve shook it off. He reminded himself that Clint wasn't dead. Not yet. He had to do his hardest to keep it that way. Making that silent promise to himself, Steve moved away. He squeezed Laura's shoulder as he passed by and she met him at the door.

"Lock this. Don't open it unless you see me. Ok?"

She nodded.

"If I don't come back, find a car, get Clint up, and drive out of here."

"I will."

Steve slipped into the hallway. He waited for Laura to shut and bolt the door before moving up the staircase in search of the others. His heart grew heavier with every step. Paranoia struck him much the same way it ruled most of Clint's life. The phone rattled in his pocket and Steve removed the pieces to fit them back together. He stopped instantly.

Tucked beneath the battery housing he found something very familiar. Its shape was like a flattened disk tapered at the edges. The smallest of metal rods protruded from one end as a transmitter. Steve descended down the staircase again, if only to hide from public view. He raised the phone to eye level and analyzed the small devise.

Not a recorder.

A radio tracker.

Someone was following him. Steve glanced down the stairs and could just barely see the door to room 108. Whoever placed a tracker on him, now knew exactly where to find Clint.

* * *

drum roll please...

there's your cliffhanger. #sorrynotsorry.

Please Review!


	9. Chapter 8

I know it's been a while, but I'm starting to try and write again after the insanity that was my Emergency Rotation. Lives were saved.

Niom Lamboise: Thank you!

jalohalo123: HAHAHAHA

5mairer : I will give ALL the cliffhangers, muhahahahaha!

WestonFollower: Hmm, what ARE those kids up to? HMM!

Casey Storm: Thank you so much for all the complements! I am so happy you are loving it!

Batghost: Laura is so strong, but even strong people lose it once in a while.

newsyd: Totally forgot to sleep. and to eat. I think i lost 15 lbs.

JRBarton: AW! I love creating addictions! hehehehe

AvengerOfFiction: OMG, I love Clint drooling in his sleep. Its just totally hilarious to me. I try so hard to make "speaking" scenes super clear so there is no ambiguity, because they are something that I have trouble reading in other stories. so thank you for the complement!

amy. .9: Who got his phone indeed? HMMMM!

Chinagirl18: Here's the update at last!

I-OfTheHawk: no one things they will become obsessed with my writing, until it happens, then you are trapped in a vortex!

discordchick: SURPRISE! AN UPDATE!

* * *

 **The Aftermath**

Chapter 8

Steve knocked on the door to his room before trying the keycard. Getting little audible reply, he slipped the key in, opened the door, and strode inside. Almost instantly, five SHIELD agents went rushing out, shoving the Captain out of the way. Steve cocked his eyebrow and glanced in at Sam.

"Someone shout "fire" and I didn't hear?"

Sam shrugged. "Got me. One of them said they got a lead on that guy we were all chasing last night and suddenly it was rats escaping a ship."

Steve shrugged. "What, you didn't want to go along?"

"Didn't invite me. In fact, told me to hold down the fort. I guess Phil doesn't like the idea of precious us putting ourselves into the line of fire without a shield. I guess that doesn't apply to you."

Steve pasted a smile on his face. Sam hit on another point he hadn't considered. Tony and Falcon both were exposed. Flesh and blood humans like Clint. It only took a single bullet, a knife wound, and that would be it. Steve suddenly felt like he was standing in a furnace and he had to somehow keep two babies alive.

Room 215 was large. There were two queen-sized beds on one side of the room with a television stand, an armoire, and a full length desk across from them. Steve stood in a small kitchenette, complete with coffee maker, mini fridge, and kitchen island. The bathroom door swung open behind him. Tony stood in the entryway, arms folded. A double door separated room 215 from the room 217 adjacent to it. Both doors were propped open and Steve could see the beds in 217 had been pushed away and two folding tables were set up in its center. Agents crowded around the table of equipment someone unpacked.

Steve glanced at one of the men he thought he knew, Agent Daniels. He was a family man, father of two. His mother had cancer and he'd taken time off three months ago to go home and take care of her. When SHIELD fell, he stuck around and fought in the Triskelion. If that man was HYDRA, Steve would eat his own shoelaces.

He strode into the next room and hovered over Daniel's shoulder. The screen displayed a topographical map. By the hills and valley, she could see the area was Cooke City. The small red dot Daniels followed looked eerily similar to the hotel's location. Steve thought about his tracker.

"Where do they think this guy is?" Steve asked.

Daniels glanced up from the screen. He had half of a headset over his ears and extended it to the captain. "Staying in the hotel! Crazy, right? Guy must have hitched his way here. Wanna listen in?"

Steve picked up the headset. "Sure. They don't want us down there?"

"Nah, supposed to just be a guy with a sniper rifle."

"That guy with a sniper rifle took out five of us and they didn't want back up?" Steve set the headset over his ears and listened to the men's walkies bounce back and forth. They were downstairs, sneaking ever closer to room 108.

Daniels shrug. "They don't pay me enough to argue."

Sam drifted into the doorway, watching the scene play out. Five red dots appeared on the terrain's field of green shades. Men jostled into position. Steve listened to orders batting back and forth, plans for forced entry, strong-arming the door. His heart sped up in his chest.

"What are they expecting to find down there?" He asked, trying to appear casual.

"Got me. All of a sudden the guys said they had contact downstairs. Two rooms on that side. I checked the building manifests," Daniels type in the code, bringing the schematics up. "Room 108 is registered to a J. Renner. 109's under P. Wilkerson. No big deal to me, but the minute they heard about 108 the guys freaked."

"108?" Steve asked. "That's funny, I was just down there."

"Really? What for?"

The captain didn't say. He listened a little harder as someone declared radio silence. The sound of a thunder of footsteps, men shouting, kids screaming, and someone yelling " _Hide the drug_ s!" reverberated in his headset. Steve smiled. He removed the headphones and handed them back to Daniels.

"Sounds like your agents just uncovered the same bong party I went down and broke up," Steve said.

 _Steve had used the kind of trackers he'd found in his cell phone before. He knew their accuracy was limited, at best, to twenty-five feet. If he was going to keep Clint under wraps, he had to do something clever, and do it fast. Launching down the stairs again, Steve reached Clint's door first. It took a bit of doing, but soon he was able to peel off the number 8 from the 108 sticker pasted to the door. He turned back to the opposite side of the hall, repeated the step with the 9 from room 109 and replaced it with the 8. He knocked on the door and young kid answered. In the process of lecturing the occupants on their horrible use of recreational drugs, barging in, and opening a window, Steve let his cell phone slip out of his pocket and under the bed. Rant complete, the captain shut the room door, returned the number 9 to Clint's door then hurriedly jogged his way to the front desk._

 _"Manager!" Steve called instantly. A small man popped his head out of some hidden office, wondering what the emergency might be. Within twenty seconds, Steve convinced the man he was, in fact, Captain America and further convinced him to place one of Clint' SHIELD spy handles as the check-in name for room 108. The manager, a man who had for years clung to Clint's duffle bag in hopes the spy may one day return, willingly complied. Less than four minute later, Steve had arrived up stairs, leaving his cellphone as a beacon for the wrong trail._

Steve headed back into the room with Sam and Tony, silently breathing a sigh of relief. Fast thinking alone kept Clint out of enemy hands and now that he had some idea of where the agents stood, he could begin identifying the threats around them. First, he needed to get his men alone. Sam and Tony needed to know the truth and fast.

"Well, I hope your boys enjoy the marijuana smoke. I cracked a window while I was down there and spoke to the manager," Steve said, "I'm heading out to get some chow. Whoever mentioned dinner got me hungry. Sam?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, sure. I'm up for anything. Cheeseburgers sounds good. As in, two. I will eat two."

"Come on, Tony. Let's go team bonding," Steve said, heading for the door and tugging Stark along.

Tony, in response, stopped in his tracks.

Surprised, Steve tugged again.

Again, Tony yanked away. "Um, in case I never made it clear. I don't follow orders. I don't do team bonding exercises, and I don't do touching."

Sam chuckled. "Hey man, you don't want food, then I'll just order you something and forget not to eat it. Come on, Cap."

Now Steve was the one who resisted. He stared Tony down. "Look, I know you've got your own agenda on things, but I'm serious. This team has some patching up to do and that can't happen if you're not around. I'm not leaving you behind in this."

"You're sounding awful patriotic right now, Cap. I think your red-white-and blues are showing," Tony pushed back.

Steve snuck in a little closer, lowering his voice in hopes he might not be overheard. "I don't think you're understanding what I'm saying, Tony."

"Actually, Cap, I could use Stark's hand looking at these scene reconstructions," another agent, Link, said.

Tony's smug smile returned. "Sorry to interrupt your bro-lunch. But I'm good. You know, some people actual do real work involved in solving four murders but, you know, if you want to go play house, Mrs. Nesbit, whatever."

"Tony—" Steve growled.

"Forget it," Sam said, heading for the door. "Let's get food."

:(:):(:):

"Check your shoes, your cell phone, move that. Let me see your sunglasses. Just drop the wallet. We'll shred the cards."

Sam shook his shirt out, trying to dislodge anything possibly hidden there. He traced his fingers along the waist band of his jeans but found nothing. Finished inspecting his sunglasses, Steve handed them back. Sam was still playing catch up on all the information Steve hurriedly spilled in the restaurant bathroom. They found one tracker. This one was different. A transmitter/receiver, something that could record his calls and texts but not trace his movements. Sam reassembled his cell phone and slipped it back into his pocket as if it was a bomb.

Steve paused for only a few minutes at the front cashier to order the mass of burgers-to-go before dragging Sam off into the bathroom together. Sam at first tried to crack a few jokes, mainly about how team-bonding meant manly bathroom trips to fix their faces up, but Steve's severe expression shut down his joviality. It wasn't until they'd crammed into the handicap stall, together, and the captain began emptying Sam's pockets, yanking at his shirt, and causing such a ruckus that Sam doubted Steve's very sanity.

"We're tracking Clint? Like, Hawkeye, Clint?" Sam asked for perhaps the fifth time.

"Half the guys in that room might be HYDRA, maybe more. I'd vouch for Daniels. We have to get Tony out of there. Pile into a car, and take off before they realize we've gone."

"Hence the to-go order?" Sam asked.

Steve nodded. "If they think we're sitting down, eating, it gives us an hour to figure things out."

"The extra food?"

"Laura hasn't eaten since yesterday. I grabbed something for Clint, but I don't think he should eat. Not until we know he doesn't have a hole in his organs."

Sam blinked, absorbing the words. "Wait, what? Who's Laura? Clint's hurt?"

"Laura's his wife and I shot Clint. Keep up, would you!"

"How do you expect me to keep up when you keep slamming me with information!?" Sam exclaimed.

Sam had a point, whether or not Steve wanted to admit it. Technically Falcon, despite being a friend, wasn't really apart of the Avengers "inner sanctum". He had no idea about Clint's hidden life or the personal reasons that kept Barton away from the team bonding trip to begin with. Steve shoved the bathroom stall door back. He glanced around, noted that they were still alone, and eased the door shut again.

"All right, listen to me carefully," Steve said, trying hard to slow himself down. "Clint has a wife and three kids."

Sam's mouth dropped open. "Say wha?"

"He left the kids with his in laws and came out here to find a new place with his wife. Their home was compromised by Ultron. I have a keen impression that this whole team bonding trip of ours has nothing to do with us, and everything to do with separating the team. Clint was the guy I shot at, _the guy I shot_ , in the woods last night. A couple of the SHIELD agents got the drop on him and tried to make the whole scene a frame job. Those agents tracked me to Clint's room downstairs. I just barely had enough time to throw them off, or else Clint would be dead. Now do you understand why we need to get Tony and get out of here?"

"You're seriously dropping all of this on me? Right now?" Sam asked incredulously. It was difficult for anyone to believe that Hawkeye, the team hardcase jokester, could have fathered anything more than an egg as a highschool project. To have a wife hidden out in the world somewhere bordered on complete insanity. To then further be convinced that Clint was in the state, in their hotel, and the Avengers were chasing him around in the woods. . . that was too much for Sam to accept.

"Look, I'm just as surprised as you are that he turned up. All I know is we got to get out of here before—" Steve paused, the main bathroom door opened and a set of heavy boots thumped inside. Steve and Sam exchanged a glance. Half a second later Sam scrambled on top of the toilet seat and squatted just low enough to go unseen from the man who walked in. Steve offered a questioning look.

 _"I am not going to be seen in the same bathroom stall as you. It's weird. This whole thing is weird!"_ Sam mouthed wordlessly.

 _"And you complain that I'm paranoid,"_ Steve mouthed back.

The booted feet moved away from the row of urinals toward the stall next door. The man shut and latched the door, sidled down onto the seat, and dropped his trousers on the floor. The entire bathroom echoed with what came out next.

Sam threw an evil glare at the captain, pinching his hand over his nose. _"I'm gonna kill you."_

 _"How was I supposed to know?!"_

Another colossal avalanche plopped into the toilet water beside them and now Steve couldn't contain himself. He dragged up the collar to his shirt and buried his nose in it, eyes watering. Sam's expression of utter hatred never left. Three hellish minutes passed and the sounds never ceased. When it seemed like the Avengers might die of oxygen deprivation, the toilet flushed for the first time. Then, inexplicably, a knock came to their dividing wall.

"Hey buddy?" Their smelly stall mate asked, knocking again, "aint no paper this side. Can you spare something?"

Sam practically clawed the toilet roll off the wall, shoved it into Steve's chest, who promptly passed it under the stall wall.

"Much obliged."

"Don't mention it," Steve replied, then realized he'd been holding his breath. His face turned slightly green and he turned into a corner, burying his entire face into it.

The toilet flushed again. Soon the man stepped out, bypassed the sink, and exited the restroom.

"Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out!" Sam chanted. He bum-rushed the door, only halted in his progression from Steve fighting him to get out first. The two of them shot out of the bathroom and stood gasping outside the door.

"Someone order five burgers with the works to go?" a waitress asked. She smiled, lifting two bags.

Somewhat embarrassed, Steve steered her way. Picking up the order, he led the way toward the back door, a grumbling Sam following close behind him. They agreed to never discuss their meeting in the bathroom ever again. They further concluded that meeting in bathrooms was not a good idea and would forever be stricken from their list of potential meeting locations.

Making it back to the hotel's first floor came with its own set of difficulties. A crowd of sheriff vehicles were parked around the back entrance, though the SHIELD agents were nowhere to be seen. Apparently they had raided the marijuana den. There was a group of bikers clustered around the back door with them. On a road trip to Sturgis, they too took the advantage America's greatest roadway on the Beartooth on their way to the Dakotas.

Steve and Sam decided to exchange shirts. It took a little cash and Sam's cell phone, but they even came away from the group with a change of leather clothes to obscure their appearance. When the bikers moved, the Avengers did too. Together the teammates slipped through the interested gatherers and, when the door was temporarily vacated, entered the hallway outside of Clint's room. Steve knocked on the door, waited, and very quickly Laura let them in.

"Sam, lock the door," Steve said over his shoulder.

Laura helped him with the bags, speaking hurriedly. "Some officers came by. I had to open the door for them. I lied and said I was alone. That I didn't hear anything. Steve, what's going on out there?" She set the bag on the empty bed.

"A distraction, that's all," Steve replied. He looked over at Clint's once unconscious form. In the time they'd been gone, Barton had woken up.

* * *

So I've been so utterly busy I have very little written beyond this exact scene! will be trying to work on more and get it updated soon!


	10. Chapter 9

well, it's been a long time. and it's been a loooooot of veterinary rotations, and it's been one really huge board examination, but finally I'm back to writing. Thank you to everyone who has been so supportive and patient (as well as impatient:). Knowing you're out there so excited for this to come has been wonderful!

jaguarspot: you caught Agent Daniels! LOL. nicely done! (oh, and here is a proper welcome to the Hawkeye series! I can't believe you read so much so quickly! I am very happy you have loved all the moments)

tlyxor1: Here we are again! Get excited:)

WestonFollower: Prepare to be amazed! And, i do love adding those humorous scenes. I can't help it:)

Shannon K: Another one who loved that scene! thank you:)

Guest: Ohhhh Tony has plans of his own, rest assured...

Casey Storm: Steve was never a silly know-nothing. I mean how many false IDs did he make to try and get in the army? He's fantastic:) I'm so happy you like seeing him that way too. Thank you for all the support!

m klindt: 3 hours post NAVLE, and here we are! me and Clint together again:)

khaitosfren: HAHAHA, yes, yes. I went there. Toilet humor. Not common, but somedays totally necessary.

amy. .9: You've been waiting so long, and here it is!

Qweb: Awe, everyone loves Steve's brains:) That really makes me smile!

AvengerOfFiction: It is sooooo rare for me to end a chapter on a happy note. Occasionally I'm merciful though:) And thank you for all the compliments! it was really wonderful to read!

Niom Lamboise: Just wait until Tony finds out...unless he stays behind that is...hmmmm:)

discordchick: Thank you for all the fantastic support! I hope you love it!

Black' Victor Cachat: Yes, poor little Sam stuck in the crazy world! Welcome to the big leagues!

The Spoiled Duchess: hahahaha, crappy, :)

Batghost: Thank you! Let's get back to this thing! LOL

The bathroom scene is so hilarious! Great job in easing off the tension.

* * *

 **The Aftermath**

Chapter 9

I couldn't believe my eyes. Steve walked into the room with his hands full of items, the smell of cheeseburgers floating in behind him. It was hard to tell whether I was hungry or deplored at the thought of food. Mostly I just hurt. My side hurt, the swollen knot on my face, where the big guy slammed into me hurt. I could see a purple and red bruise covering half of my wife's face. The sight alone got me struggling to rise. It hurt worse to get up, and the others heard it loud and clear. Steve tried to inspire me back down but I don't have a good track record with listening, usually when it was related to sound medical advice.

Laura stole the few stacks of pillows from the free bed and arranged them at my back. I had to sit sort of sideways, letting my shot through hip have less pressure than the other. I broke my tailbone once years back slipping on a patch of ice. I was just a kid at the time, but some pains you never really forget.

"Steve, I thought I was dreaming. When did you get here? How long have you known?" I asked. To my side, Laura punched a pillow into submission and slid it beneath my right butt cheek. It honestly felt so much better. I just wish she wouldn't strain like this over me.

"I came in about half an hour ago. Laura caught me up. Look, I had to bring in—"

My attention shifted. For some reason I was having trouble focusing. "Laura, stop dancing around. I'm fine. Did you sleep last night? Have you slept at all?"

She gave me a strained expression. A lashing was on its way. "Yes, I did. For about two hours right before I ran off in the woods to pee, shot at a man, went escaping in the dark with you, got into a car accident, watched our truck explode, kept you from bleeding to death as we shivered in the forest together, and hitchhiked here." Her look attention shifted from me to the captain. "I sure hope something in that bag is mine."

Steve smiled. He picked a Styrofoam box out of his bag and it exchanged hands over me. Laura popped the lid open and I watched her eyes expand happily. Sometimes it took a few weeks for her to stop eating for two. I reached out to Steve's arm and tugged his shirt sleeve.

"Thank you," I whispered to him.

"Remember that when you see-"

For a second time, Steve didn't get to finish. In that same moment, I noticed Sam for the first time. My mind was still fuzzy, and it took me a while to realize it might be because the meds Laura fed me. The second I saw Sam Wilson, I'll admit to losing it a little. I had one rule. All the Avengers knew it. My family is not put in jeopardy. No one knows about them that I don't bring in, personally. I was set and ready with hackles raised like a snarling dog to tear Steve a new one for letting Sam into the life that was decidedly mine, _not_ his. Steve saw all of those emotions welling up and instantly cut me off before I even had a chance to open my mouth.

"I had no choice, it was either bring Sam in, or let him stay behind with HYDRA, exposed, and alone. So shut up, sit there, and stop moving around before I tie you down."

Finally I stopped. My eyes narrowed at the captain. "You know, if you didn't shoot at people, I'd be fine."

Steve smiled again. "You know what, you shouldn't run from crime scenes in the middle of the night and set your truck on fire."

He had me on that point. I considered laughing, but the potential pain of it prevented me from trying. "From now on, forever, _I_ handle the Barton family secret, ok? Is it just the two of you?"

Sam figured I probably didn't have the strength to actually attack him. He came out of the little hallway and stood by the foot of my bed. I had nothing against Sam per se. He was a great guy, a solid friend, and one I trusted when situations got hairy. Sam even helped Natasha on that mission when the Triskelian fell, and she isn't exactly the friendliest flower in the pot. I'm just a control freak for some things. I watched as he stared at my wife in a curious, analytical way, then around the room. I waited for him to finish his assessment before addressing him.

"Jealous?" I asked.

Sam's eyes dropped on me. "That you got a normal life and us bozos are stuck picking up the pieces of ours? I can't keep a girlfriend interested for more than three weeks. You got a hot mama? Yeah, I'm a little jealous. Then again, a guy like you getting a girl like that, I think it gives hope to the rest of the world."

Laura almost snorted a French fry out of her nose. She held her hand over her mouth, smiling and chewing. "I have nearly tamed the savage beast. He learned to make ravioli."

"In a can," I added. "We can't stay here. Not with those men. Can you count out the HYDRA members?"

"There's one I'll vouch for," Steve said. "Name's Daniels. He worked with Sam and me when SHIELD fell. The entire team has assembled at a new base in Wyoming. Coulson has some enhanced beings out there. Inhumans he calls them."

This was a development I didn't expect. Working against SHIELD agents who were actually HYDRA I would understand, but dealing with enhanced was an entirely different matter. I'd seen the things that Wanda could do, and I knew full well how another Pietro might work out. If Coulson amassed a number of these individuals all under one SHIELD controlled roof, then I was going to start getting antsy.

"Why did Phil call you here?" Laura asked before I could.

"That's where things get interesting," Sam said. He folded his arms across his body and leaned to one side. "See, I took the call myself. Coulson was losing it. Freaked out of his mind. Said someone had attacked the base and if we didn't get out there in an hour, we'd have nothing left to find."

"Then how'd you get here?"

"That's where things got even more interesting. We showed up and the whole world is fine. Coulson says there is no problem. He lied to get us out here for some team bonding. I guess a lot of people didn't take too kindly to the Ultron stunt and he wanted Tony, and the rest of the Avengers, out of the limelight."

Laura looked sharply at me and I knew the exact reason why. On the surface it appeared as a legitimate excuse and something that Coulson, of all people, might pull. He had an unnatural sway with Tony, Steve and the rest of us and that made us indulge him more often than we probably should. How Tony Stark ever got into a car and agreed to a trip through nature didn't make any sense to me. It was against Tony's every principle. It only took five minutes of being in my house before Tony started a wood chopping competition with Steve and nearly brought my tractor to life. Nature and Stark did not mix. So why did he even agree to come?

Then there was Natasha. Where the hell was she? I get we had a little tiff when I left and she didn't come, and when my baby was a guy instead of a girl, but we were still best friends. At that, she held great respect for Phil though not as much as Fury. Where Coulson was involved, Natasha was too. So where was my best friend?

The biggest question I had of all was the one glaring issue Sam and Cap seemed to not even realize stood in front of them. Laura and I had just messaged Phil not four nights ago at a truck stop south of the state border. We arranged for him to drop by Laura's parents and check on the kids. We liked his impartial view on the state of our children's well being over what Jackson Jamison Smith allowed us to know. Before I lost my cell phone in an unscheduled fiery truck explosion, we had called Coulson to check in. He was in Columbus and passed the phone to Lila so she could tell me all about how she planned to teach Odin how to rider her new pony Sleiphner. How my six year old knew the name of an eight legged horse of Asgard, I don't can't even fathom. Cooper enjoyed his summer vacation by going fishing every morning with Grandpa Smith. Phil held my baby when we talked, I could hear Nathan's happy, healthy, coo through the earpiece.

Phil Coulson was not in Wyoming.

And if Phil Coulson did not call the Avengers to the base in Wyoming, then who did?

* * *

annnnnd

there's your cliff hanger:)

hopefully I'll be able to start pumping out more chapters son! i legit have NOOO idea how this story is ending. yet.


	11. Chapter 10

tlyxor1: Awe, thank you for the compliment! And it is VERY hard to wait for the ending to start reading:) 5mairer : only for you:)

* * *

 **The Aftermath**

Chapter 10

Ignoring the news shared by Sam and the others, and shooting a look to me about the bomb drop Laura was not about to share, Laura took over talking before I could. "I think it's a good idea for you to do some team bonding. Everyone was so defeated after what happened. I know it was hard on Clint. I think you need to get some time to yourselves and remember how much you mean to each other again."

 _Nice way to placate them_ , I thought, though said, "Difficult to team bond with only two of you."

"Three. Tony's here too. Natasha and Coulson stayed at the base."

I looked over at Laura. She stopped eating. I promised myself that when we finally got ourselves out of this mess, I would stop cursing. But for right now, I let out a good one. Steve, despite all the flack we gave him about strong language, curled his eyebrows at me and strained against offering a strong handed admonishment. We'd worked together often enough, long enough, that he knew a head on collision was coming and before I worked up the steam to power it. The muscles on his neck went taught. He sat back in his chair so straight you might have thought a flagpole got rammed up his spine. I was gonna let him have it.

"So you all piled into a couple of SUVs and just went traveling around the countryside? Steve, I thought you were a smart guy. I don't know who you talked to or what motive they have, but it wasn't Phil. He's at my in-laws watching the kids for a few days to make sure my father-in-law doesn't poison them against me. If you showed up a couple days back, which you would need to, to travel as much as you say, then I can tell you, for certain, that you spoke with an imposter. An enhanced, probably. Now I've got one better. That means the man you left Natasha with, alone, is most likely out to kill or capture her. That's what one of those HYDRA agents we took out told me. He was here to kill or capture Laura and frame or kill me. That means these guys are pitting us against each other, trying to separate us. Now you just told me Tony's here too. Since Sam isn't exactly dressed for the occasion and I don't see your shield either, I'm just going to assume Fake Phil took Tony's suit. He is now upstairs, alone, no suit, in a den of guys who want to kill him."

I had leaned forward as I spoke, the fever of my words driving my body up. I suddenly felt spent. The morphine didn't do as good of a job when I insisted on jostling around the place. Letting myself rest back against the head board again, I looked intently at our captain.

"Steve, they'll kill him, and they'll kill Nat, and then they'll kill the rest of us. We need to get out of here."

Sam whistled from where he loomed over my boots. He folded his arms. "All right, Cap. Remember when I said I'll leave all the crazy save the world crap to you? Yeah, this would be one of the reasons why I might say that."

"We all got duped, Sam," Steve said.

"And no one makes fools of us. Unless, you know, they do. Then we don't take that lying down." My face screwed sideways a little at my own words. Yeah, I think it was obvious I wasn't working on all cylinders here. That kind of sucked for my future of proving that I could be a productive member of the "get Natasha back" committee.

"All right, boys, I think the time for feeling sorry for yourselves has passed," Laura snapped. "I am tired, my husband is bleeding, and I want a hospital as of yesterday. There are car keys in Clint's bag, so I'm guessing he has a getaway car stashed here. Do you?"

I raised an eyebrow. My wife had suddenly turned into my old Army general, Morgan Taggart. "Um, yeah. A station wagon parked around back."

"Fine. We are getting in that car, sneaking out of here, and going north. From there someone can call back to that secret training base I know you're making back in upstate New York. My husband can't keep secrets from me more than he can resist raw cookie dough. Miss Maximoff or Vision can get Tony a suit, Falcon some wings, and a jet. Clint and me will be at the hospital. Bring Natasha to us when you get her back. She's my friend too and I want to make sure she's all right. Before that, you are going upstairs and dragging Tony Stark down here."

I watched Sam's mouth begin to hang open. Both he and Cap said, "Yes, Ma'am."

The conversation ended.

:(:):(:):

Steve left Sam and the Bartons' together. He preferred to keep as man of the group together as possible, and Clint needed a protector while he was stuck on his back. Given their history of accidentally maiming Hawkeye, Steve knew it would be months, perhaps years, before Clint let this one go. Thor heard about his own contribution to Clint's body scars for almost two months. If they wanted Clint to live long enough to have those conversations, Steve had to get Tony and get them out of Cooke City.

His trouble? Underestimating Stark's inherent knack for working against him in absolutely everything in their lives. It would have been easy for Tony to give into the trip and enjoy himself. But that was not Tony's personality. It would have been even easier to pack up and leave directly from the restaurant had they been together.

Not Stark.

The longer it took Steve to walk up the stairs, find the room of SHIELD agents, and locate the billionaire the angrier he became. It was true he harbored some carried over feelings of anger and resentment over the things Tony had done during the Ultron mission. If it wasn't for Stark, they wouldn't be living in a world where the idea of a registration for enhanced individuals was being discussed in congress. If it hadn't been for an entire country falling out of the sky, Steve might not have decided to make a training base for Avengers, separate from SHIELD, the government, and anyone else with a propensity to have a moral compass beneath his own. Time and time again Steve felt himself being dragged under the decisions of others, and he was getting tired of being the man to pick up the pieces. Life was easy when he could control it. There were good guys, and there were bad guys. There wasn't some political influence that separated, shielded some and not others, and there was no such thing as a cause too small to help. In Steve's world, the world of Captain America, every life mattered.

In Stark's world, one person mattered. If they were lucky, two. It wasn't about the team, the planet, or anything else he claimed to stand on. He was the face of humanity's over-indulgence. He wanted the entire world to lift their masks and spill their secrets the way he did. Call evil out of its school yard and stand up to fight in front of the entire world. The shadows hated him the way he hated them. Steve couldn't work that way. The longer he did, the more he realized just how different he and Tony were.

The minute Steve walked into the SHIELD/HYDRA staging area, he was prepared to lure Tony out with a witty line and a strong-eyed look of "your captain commands you". What he did not expect was the all-out blatant resistance he met for a second time. Tony sat on the end of a bed, a stolen laptop on his legs, and he typed away absently on it.

"Sam got sick on truck stop food and suddenly that is my problem?" Tony asked. His look of pure, ostentatious, anger broiled Steve. His fingers never stopped typing.

"It _is_ when you're my teammate and I need help with him."

Through the open doorway a few of the agents milled into the room. Steve found himself reviewing them in his mind, cataloging their faces without realizing it. There were fifteen men total. One he trusted, Daniels. Three he recognized, but didn't know from where. Eleven unknowns. Seven joined the troop in the mountains to secure the crime scene. Five took Gavin across the highway into Red Lodge for medical care. The more Steve thought about it, the more he realized how founded Clint's fears were. The Avengers literally stood in a nest of trigger-happy HYDRA agents, one of whom had the ability to possess Coulson's face. His patience for Stark waned.

"Were you eating at that little burger shop across the way?" Agent Carl asked.

"Yeah, for a minute. Till Sam wound up in the back," Steve replied, shrugging. He wanted to appear easy, laid back about it. Then again, his ability to blend in was so atrocious that Natasha once felt the need to kiss him in public to prevent him causing a distraction.

"Well, I don't do sick people. They creep me out. I have a thing about germs, you know that," Tony said. His eyes returned to the computer screen.

"I do know that, but I also know that as a member of this team," Steve strode over, slammed the laptop lid, removed it from Tony's hands, and dropped it on the desk. "when I need you, it is not up for debate."

The agents looked between Tony and Steve, waiting for the fireworks.

Tony shoved to his feet. He was shorter than Steve, but only by a few inches. His eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, and chin jutted out. "I think you just forgot who exactly pays for the fancy pajamas we all run around in, _Captain_."

"And I think you forgot what it means to be part of a team. Like not trying to kill us with your creations gone wild."

Tony didn't flinch. Steve could see the black clouds swirling behind the billionaire's eyes. Steve was pushing some buttons that spurred a future nuclear war. Part of him wondered whether Tony planned to lash out at him or not. The agents took a few paces around the room's periphery to watch and clear out of the way.

"I'd like to know where you were when the portal needed closing in New York," Tony whispered, pure venom tainting his words. "When I feel on that grenade and you didn't. I'd like to know where you were in Sokovia when Thor got flattened under a country and I almost died giving you the time to save people who wanted nothing to do with us. Tell me where you were when Clint almost died saving some kid. Oh wait, I know that answer. You were on an evacuation ship, prepared to clear out. Don't you _dare_ ask me where my loyalties lie, Cap, because _I_ have been the one risking everything to keep this planet safe. _Not you_. Maybe I'm done doing that."

Apparently the easy way was not going to work. Steve grabbed the front of Tony's shirt, it felt good to physically put his hands on him, and kicked the hall door open. The wood splintered apart. He'd forgotten the door's opened inward in this hotel. Tony was dragged into the hall, away from the agents craning around to watch. Releasing him there, Steve picked up the door and shoved it back in place. He turned on Tony.

"You picked on Hell of a time to let all that out," Steve seethed in a whisper.

"Yeah? What do you think you're doing?!" Tony whispered back, madder than a rain-soaked cat. He gestured to the room. "I'm trying to keep us safe and you just drag me out here? Are you insane?!"

Steve shook his head. "What?"

Tony groaned. "Look, I get it. You just care about going off on your little boyscout trip, but we've got bigger problems than that, and apparently you are clueless. Let me fill you in by using small, old words you might understand. That Mike guy was HYDRA. Straight up, European import, HYDRA. I even asked him whether or not he'd abducted some kids lately because that's where I recognized him. Steve, they're feeding us this lie about chasing some psycho on the mountain who killed a bunch of agents, then they take us up the abandoned mountain at night, where Clint's truck is parked? We're being set up, you ancient idiot! Why do you think I even agree to come out here?"

Steve shook his head again, rubbing the sides of his face. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I knew that truck because who do you think helped Clint put the engine back in it? Why do you think I stopped you from chasing the shooter in the dark? Clint dropped his rifle, the one Laura used at their house back when HYDRA first showed up on their doorstep, at the crime scene last night. I found his guns and I hid them before anyone else got their hands on them. Now, if you don't mind, you go take care of food poisoned Sam while I keep using the laptop I stole to figure out how many potential gunshot victims ended up in local emergency rooms. Because you don't often miss, and I have a suspicion that you might have actually shot Clint last night. I need to find Clint before they do."

Tony slammed his shoulder into Steve's on his way back to the room door. Overcome in a mixture of anger (because Tony was never that good at sharing what took Steve this long to figure out) and happiness (that he didn't have a long explanation to give himself),Steve grabbed Tony from behind, clamped a hand over the man's mouth, and began to drag him toward the stairs.

It was always easier in Tony's case to show him a solution than get him to stay still long enough to listen to one.

* * *

bahahahahahahhaa

ohhhh there's that Tony/Steve dynamic that likes to get them into trouble.


	12. Chapter 11

WestonFollower: So much more to happen! Trying hard to finish it, but so far I'm writing a chapter a time.

amy. .9:New chapter! WHOOT!

m klindt: I missed being back! (i am LEGIT exhausted ALL THE TIME. i am asleep by 9pm. its terrible.

Batghost: LOL! Manhandling tony, oooh yes,

Qweb: Tony says "don't take my stuff" or touch my stuff, or hand me stuff, oh, and I don't share. so there.

Jesuslovesmarina: This is totally a lead-in for Cap 2! I'm excited for this back and forth. (and welcome to the fan page, again!)

discordchick: Laura's gots some plans for them, I'm sure! but...expect some serious heartache. no joke.

I-OfTheHawk: hahahaha, wish granted!

Niom Lamboise : Those two are just too much!

jaguarspot; BAHAHAHAHAHHA! Yes, that is the exact image. Like, ok, this didn't work, so guess what, we are doing it the hard way!

The Spoiled Duchess: Poor steve, the two of them can't ever catch a break

IceDragoness1: Aw thanks!

JRBarton: my editing guru! always looking out for me! happy to be back, though struggling with inspiration. I think that's why i keep dreaming about 's trying to win me back too. And raw cookie dough is legit my (and someone we know's) weakness. LOL

Guest 1 (little concerns Clint has for..) I do love how he dotes on her. It seems like something he'd do.

Guest 2( finish exam) Glad to be back! although it's a drain for sure!

5mairer: always so demanding. LOL.

tlyxor1 : hahahahaha. Sometimes if its a good book, its impossible to wait before reading!

* * *

 **The Aftermath**

Chapter 11

Night approached. The mountains gave us a little leeway before full darkness knocked out the visibility completely. My getaway car, a ratty, tan and wood paneled station wagon from the nineties did the job of getting us out of Cooke City in one piece once we were able to slip out the back door and get loaded up. That was a little easier to say than to do.

By the time Cap made it down the stairs, dragging Tony in front of him, Sam had managed to drag me out of bed. The minute I was upright, all the blood flowed out of my brain to my feet and I almost passed out on the floor. Sam caught me, I pitched forward, and suddenly I lost that campfire ravioli from late yesterday all over the carpet. I looked sympathetically at Sam. His eyes remained fixed on the ceiling and off the mess. I couldn't blame him.

Laura must have been exhausted. She decided not to clean up after us and instead cruised forward ahead of Sam and me, opened the room door, and started ushering us out. She had my jump bag over her shoulder and the bag of burgers in one hand with me in the other. I know she'd rather leave everything we owned behind before she gave up the rest of her lunch (and breakfast . . . and dinner . . .).

I'm a terrible husband.

The door to the room opened and there Tony stood, biting Cap's hand, elbowing our fearless leader in the floating ribs, and ready to raise a holy Hell. The second he realized I was being lifted and dragged across the room, his attitude changed. Steve let him go at last and Tony rushed over to me. He shooed Laura out from under me and took her place, hauling me up by the waist band of my pants. I pretty much screamed in his ear while Laura pointed out the mistake he made. Together, our little Avengers troop snuck out the side door.

Sam slipped into the driver's seat of my wood-panel wagon. Cap insisted Laura stay up front and get some sleep while he squeezed in behind Sam. Tony loaded into the flat back third of the wagon with me cramped in beside him.

Let's just say, I wasn't in a position to object.

Sam hit the gas. The Avengers scrunched down out of the field of vision, and like a bunch of burglars we escaped Cooke City mostly intact. The mountain pass alone waited for us. Hours of driving, sharp turns, and whatever road block may or may not exist on that lonely road waited for us. To say I was looking forward to it would be a lie. I hated every minute.

"You know, if you wanted to get my attention, you didn't have to leave so many breadcrumbs," Tony said, pulling off his jacket and tucking it around my shoulders. "And you didn't have to tell Cap to drag me downstairs either."

"Laura forced him. I said to leave you behind to get hung by the thumbs," I whispered. I didn't ask for his coat, but it was nice to have. I'd grown cold again. Shock kept sneaking up on me and I knew at some point I was going to lose my race to outrun it. Steve sat only a seat away. For now, he let us have a private conversation and tried to pretend he wasn't listening in.

"I dropped your rifle down the hill. I saw the big hand gun too, the non-SHIELD issued one. Figured it was yours."

"Hide it?"

Tony nodded. "I got to the truck before the others. Made sure of that. Your IDs are in my pocket. It'll be a few days before they find any physical evidence, if they go looking for it. Think you left any blood at the scene?"

"Probably did."

"I'll send an encrypted message to JARVIS. He'll chat with Vision who can scramble the data. Far as I'm concerned, you're name's out of it. Going by sight alone, I recognized five or six of the agents in the hotel with us as HYDRA. The other's I'm not sure about."

"Your Phil was HYDRA too."

"Natasha figured that one out."

Steve whipped around in his seat so fast I thought the entire car would hydroplane. "What?!"

Tony shrugged. "Phil didn't force her to go with us. What kind of sense does that make? Team bonding with just the three of us and leave her behind? She told me she was going to do some poking around."

"You know what, Stark? Some days I could just punch you in your perfect teeth," Cap growled, turning around in his seat again.

Tony looked down at me. "See what I've been living with? It's unbearable."

"Tony."

Stark shot a glance forward. My wife was staring at him in the rearview mirror. "I really liked my house. I mean, I _really_ _liked_ my house. I don't like shopping for new ones. So, sympathy on the Barton front is pretty nil. I'll be honest."

I watched the childlike enthusiasm, the "I got something over on Cap" look fall out of Tony's face like a meteor crashing to earth. There was a little Clint Barton in me who felt bad for him. The two of us having a face off was one thing. Getting a verbal smack down from Mrs. Barton was like getting screamed at by your mother, on steroids. That's not to say I thought Laura was wrong either. Tony deserved a smack in the face, hence why I gave it to him.

"Don't say anything," I told him. "We'll forgive you. Eventually. Let me get done being mad first, though."

If Tony wanted to say something, he held it in. Instead, he busied himself with stripping off some of his clothes and packing it around my waist. My back felt wet from the blood dripping around it via gravity. It is not a comfortable feeling. Don't try it. I'm not sure how long we had until the guys at the hotel figured the Avengers flew the coop. I was more worried about a roadblock. I had a gun under the dashboard that Laura accidentally found. She passed it back to Cap who checked the cartridge, as if I'd keep an uncocked, unloaded gun taped to my own getaway car.

I tried to listen to whatever oldies Sam got working on the radio. The old tuner sounding like a regular 50s era model as it clicked between station after station searching for something other than NPR. I eventually edged off a couple hours into our uphill climb. Tony remained dutifully, trapped, beside me. It wouldn't be long before that road block I worried about began to sneak up on us. That the HYDRA agents who ran it started searching the line of cars heading over the Beartooth, and Sam started sweating.

It wasn't long before our little caravan of escaping Avengers got caught.

* * *

and

the hammer

drops.

hehehehehehe.

please review


	13. Chapter 12

Sorry for the long hiatus guys, I'm really hitting an inspiration brick wall. I'm so excited with everything going on in my Nine-realms Series (with Northland and Midgard coming up next) that this has completely taken a back burner. Clint's apart of that second book and I'm so excited to get to it, so inspiration's been seriously hard to find here.

* * *

Mellia Bee: I'm really enjoy the Steve/Tony interaction here for sure! and yes, Cliffhangers, are forever my calling card.

Guest: here's the update!

WestonFollower: thank you for your constant support! It means so much!

Niom Lamboise: Thank you!

Batghost: you're completely right. sometimes that admonishment with a soft tone hurts worse than a scream would. Good question about Natasha! I honestly haven't figured out what she's up to yet!

Black' Victor Cachat: LOL, you've got that right!

I-OfTheHawk: hahahahahah!

Qweb: sure is!

amy. .9: That's the way i like her. Always with that hard little edge. Great point with Tony's phone, but if they bugged one, then His natural assumption would be they've bugged them all. His one saving grace would be getting a signal out through a laptop he might have cracked...had steve given him the time to do it:)

Jesuslovesmarina: you've got that right!

m klindt : of course I do:) trying to have a happy new year, but NAVLE scores come out soon, terrified i didn't pass, and then this whole being sick thing is not ideal. :(

discordchick: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I love your responses. you know me so well. we'll see If Clint gets what he need (at last) or if something terrible befalls them at the 1 yard line... (insert evil grin)

tlyxor1: Thank you for the holidays wish! and yes, I'm mean. I aim to be evil. muhahahahahaha.

Casey Storm: Oh, poor Tony. He did deserve it for sure, but I always have a twinge of feeling sorry for him. I am TERRIBLE right now about not updating regularly. this is not like me. :(

* * *

Chapter 12

Steve smelled like hoagies, old socks, and Pine-sol. I don't know when the last time Tony ate a breath mint was, but he was seriously overdue. This was the state of my life. Shoved in the back of an old station wagon in the middle of nowhere Montana with Tony Stark on one side and Captain Steve Rogers on the other. The three of us had somehow squeezed into the flattened back and breathed the same choking air. Every jacket, trash bag, spare cloth, and some crap we picked up off the side of the road was now laying on top of the three of us. This was, without a doubt, the worst situation I've ever been stuck in the middle in.

"Stark if you kick me one more time, I swear I will—"

"What? You'll what? Shoot me? I see how well that's worked out for our team so far."

"That was an accident and you know it."

"Suddenly I'm not so sure, Cap."

"Are you being serious right now?"

"Why don't you come over here and check?"

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed.

Sam turned around in the passenger seat, firing a deadly glance in our direction that, frankly, none of us buried under the junk wagon could see. He said something to the effect of us shutting it. I was more than happy to have someone else on my side.

We'd reached the midpoint of the Beartooth pass, just south of the camp site where all our troubles first began. As expected, the road block started there, and continued north for about a mile of constant car checks. Four Avengers might seem like one-way tickets to getting whatever we wanted, but that wasn't exactly the case when the majority of the people out their searching cars were HYDRA agents and not our friendly SHIELD contacts. Since not all four Avengers could squeeze in the back together, we all banked on the hope that our lesser known Sam and Laura would be the ones a good HYDRA crew might not recognize. They stayed up front, disguised as much as we could make them. It took a little bit more than a kind smile to get past them, or at least that's what we all assumed until my wife decided to turn on her alter identity.

This strange person who occasionally arose in my presence was known as Dr. Smith, medicine woman. There is a phenomenon in medical practitioners where in one moment, they could be their normal, cursing, non-politically-correct selves and the next they could turn on this "patient" switch and becoming these robotic soothing caretakers. Not only did Laura have this little patient switch, she had a third one. This formed from the four years she spent moonlighting as an E.R. doctor at a local SHIELD hospital. Dr. Laura Smith, E.R. whiz extraordinaire was a certifiably terrifying monster who, if not fully satiated, had the ability to devour one's soul with a single razer-sharp glance.

We decided to let Laura drive.

The first road stop that appeared in the wake of our escape required her to get out of the car. Her leather-clad, sunglass-wearing, pretend-to-be-sleeping passenger was left alone for now. Laura left the driver's door open and she never took her hand off the roof of the wagon. Instead of being as cooperative as possible the way we had all agreed she should, my lovely wife transformed before our very eyes.

"What the _Hell_ do you think you're doing!" she screamed instantly.

Steve, Tony, and I all emerged a little from beneath the shroud of crap strewn over us. Laura stood like a boxer waiting to get into a fight. She jutted her chin out at the HYDRA goon who dared to detain her and, shock of shocks, grabbed the guy by the scruff of his shirt and dragged him a little closer. Sitting in the passenger seat, even Falcon was forced to throw a traumatized look her way.

"Do you have any idea who I am?!" she continued to shout. "I am the only certified trauma surgeon in eighty five square miles! I have four hikers in Washoe who were attacked by a bear, and one of them needs an emergency amputation! So unless the lot of you have a helicopter to fly me into my E.R. right now, you better let me get back on the road before I show you how a field surgeon can strip a guy's nuts in twelve seconds flat!"

Steve's mouth hit the floorboards. Tony reached over, rattling a few burger wrappers and a tin can to push his chin upward with a clack of teeth striking together. Sam adjusted himself in his seat uncomfortably. The guy was probably weighing whether or not he'd have to yank Laura into the car before she raised enough of a ruckus that every HYDRA agent would come down on us.

Her fist opened, and Laura shoved the guy away from her. "Now are you going to get the hell out of my way, or am I going to ram your truck of the side of the hill and keep going myself?"

The HYDRA goon looked around, as if wondering if she was serious or not. This was the back woods after all. People out here were different and more often than not they were also packing heat. Apparently, he didn't think she was worth the trouble. Stepping back he waved her on. In the end, he never actually got a word out.

Laura slid back into the car, shoved the wagon in gear, and floored the gas pedal. "I'm sick and tired of this back and forth bull—"

Cap winced as a string of curses he never thought possible came out of my wife's adorable lips. With her foot planting the pedal quite literally to the metal, our troop sailed through the next four roadblocks. After the second one, it got surprisingly easier to get through. Apparently HYDRA got the idea to radio ahead to one another, giving a warning of the crazy woman headed their way.

The Beartooth pass was a 68 winding miles, almost 11,000 feet high, and cut through 20 mountain peaks bordering two states. Laura managed the charge through the entire second half in less than two hours. Scientifically speaking, that should have been impossible. Then again, I sucked at science. It was one reason I shot things for a living and stayed out of the science twins' lab every moment of my day.

Red Lodge was a small town (in relation to New York City being a big town) that existed along Route 212, one of the major roadways in and out of Montana. It was a tourist trap in most respects. The town bordered the major snow sports arenas of the west when winter showed up and refused to leave, and in the summer it was called the Gateway of Yellowstone.

For me, it meant drugs. Good drugs.

We pulled off the main road, following Laura's map of the area. We'd already scoped out the majority of the hospital's features as a potential future place of work for Laura. We knew they might not have had the best trauma center, but it was still capable of handling old gunshot wounds. As for me, I got to stay in the car until the place got the official stamp of approval by all involved parties. Laura, Steve, and Sam went inside together to secure me someplace private.

Tony hung out in the open back of the wagon with me, sitting on the tailgate with his legs dangling over the ground. I was flat on my back next to him. If he noticed I was hyperventilating, he didn't point it out. He leaned on his right hand, and coincidentally over the wad of restaurant paper towels I had stacked over my gunshot wound. It hurt and apparently that didn't bother him either.

"Your wife has a potty mouth," he said. It was the first thing he'd spoken to me since we'd been shoved in the back with Cap.

"Should hear her when . . . when we watch . . ." I couldn't finish. I wanted to say Grey's Anatomy. Nothing got her blood boiling more than watching every medical protocol that show ever blew up on cable T.V. I'll admit, I watched it with her cause I thought it was funny to see her get all heated. It made her nose wrinkle up, and that got me every time. Now that Dr. McDreamy was dead, I noticed her interest in the show waning. I'm not sure what that meant for her love of me.

Tony lifted his hand slightly, looking at the wound. "You should probably stop talking, Clint."

"Mm-hmm."

"I'm serious. I know we've been kind of dragging you all over the place, but I think this might actually be a big deal. Once we get inside, I'll grab a phone and get the rest of the team out here. We can put a message into Dr. Cho and get this sorted in no time."

I forced one of my eyes open. "You care."

"Of course I care, Clint," Tony whispered, patting the napkins back down. "I never didn't care. I just do stupid things."

"No . . . kiddin'."

"I'm trying to make that up to you."

"Bullet . . . first . . . make-up later."

"I suppose that makes sense." He flipped his wrist over, checking his watch. "They've been in there for twenty minutes. What's taking so long? I thought an E.R. meant some interest in being speedy. Do I have to just go in there myself?"

As the sentence exited his mouth, Tony's face shot down at mine. I looked up at him. The same four letter word escaped our lips simultaneously.

"No," I said. "I can't. Done. Not getting up. Bleeding. Dying. Laying here. No."

Tony climbed through the back of the wagon to the front. He rooted around on the floor, uncovered my go bag full of my back-up arsenal. While it wasn't much, there were at least four full mags, two hand guns, and two dozen arrows in there. I didn't have a bow, and it wasn't likely I could shoot one if I had it. Tony checked one of the handguns, shoved two mags in his pocket and set the second one between us.

I glanced over at it. "No," I said again.

"Look, I'm not telling you to get up, storm some unfamiliar terrain, and save your kidnapped wife. I'm leaving this here to shoot the guys that are likely going to come out here after you the minute I leave. If we're lucky, they don't have a sniper out here already. HYDRA probably caught onto us at one of those outposts. I thought we got through too easy."

He stood out of the back of the cab and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his face. I think him and Sam must have gone shopping at the same aviator-eye wear outlet. I don't know what it was about my Avengers teammates. They all had this idea that a pair of shades, a hoodie, and some baggy clothes instantly converted them into an average-joe. If Tony actually wanted to blend in, he was better of shaving his face. That, no one would see coming.

Despite myself, I tried to lift up on my palms. "You . . . can't go in. Alone, you can't."

"I don't have much of a choice, now do I?" Tony replied. He patted the air, trying to calm me down. "I'm not crazy. I'm going across the street first. I saw a store front or something over there. Someplace with a phone. I'll call back-up first. How's that sound? Very Cap like?"

"You're freaking me out," I told him honestly.

"Yeah, well, that happens too." Tony grabbed the handle of the trunk hovering over our heads. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

"Tony—"

He slammed the trunk shut.

* * *

yeah...i did it again.

but come on, you can't be too surprised i did it. I'm trying really hard to make sure that I don't short change this story on how good it is because my inspiration sucks.

Now, when you review this time, Please Dear Jesus, send me some ideas too? Or, send me your favorite part of Clint's history, or something that Clint once did that made you laugh your but off, or made you cry, or tell me I'm awesome or something. I seriously need an inspiration booster here. I'm dying.

please review! (please...please...please...)


	14. Chapter 13

Thank you all so much for the inspiring words! I think i finally have what direction this is going, but It's like trying to pull teeth out of an awake tiger's mouth!

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WestonFollower: Thank you for all the support! i'm definitely going to try and get some tenderness in there!

Guest: Your idea may be very close to what I decide to go with!

5mairer: Aw, thank you!

Mellia Bee: I love the mental image of shotgun in one hand, Hippocratic Oath in the other. FANTASTIC

Niom Lamboise: i like this...i like this a lot...

Fairyquill: Thank you for the awesomeness! I do truly love little lila.

m klindt: hahahahahaha, This is all fantastic stuff.

discordchick: Oh...Natasha...:) Vibes captured!

mafiabro: hahahah. I do really love that scene with Clint too!

The Spoiled Duchess: Thank you so much for loving my Laura. I really wanted her to be equal parts mom, and man-murdering-grizzly-bear. Fury is possible...we shall see!

Jesuslovesmarina: A lot of my things were rent for a while, but now my universe is so expanded, its hard to know where it all is, hahahaha. Let me know what you're thinking :). And I truly appreciated your ideas for sure! (and the lovely little PM you sent also. hahahaha. (DID YOU FINISH I CAN HEAR THE DRUMS?)

I-OfTheHawk: OHHHHH SNIPERS... It's been a while since i played with snipers! And Clint whump at the same time as Tony really brings a smile to my face. They're so strong and yet huge babies too.

Batghost: bahahahahahhahah! I love that idea!

tlyxor1: I have been playing with the idea of how to bring Clint's deafness into this universe. I haven't decided just how yet, but it's swirling in my mind. Maybe because I so desperately want to write the scene where he walks in the front door and Lila rushes up screaming "daddy!" and he can't hear her. OMG the soul-crushing moment would literally tear out hearts.

amy. .9: Ok. direction achieved. not just to write it. fingers, don't fail me now.

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Chapter 13

Tony locked me in. I'm not sure whether he intended to do it or not, but the minute he left, I cursed so loud, I'm sure my wife could have heard it. If Tony thought I was serious about actually staying behind and not dragging myself on my hands into that hospital to save my own wife, then Tony didn't know me as well as he thought. I had a couple options. I could either continued to limp-fish it and not go anywhere or I could drag myself up to the back seats, kick the door open, and fall onto the ground. Either way, walking was somewhat off the table.

I couldn't just lay there.

I had to do something.

My hand reached forward and grabbed the edge of the back seat Steve had once been sitting in. The other side had been folded down, giving me the chance to drag myself over the back of it and reach from the door handle. It was like trying to move through mud. My body felt spent and I knew it. My tank was empty, my body shot up, and this was going to be it.

I made it to the door latch and I yanked it inward to pop the lock. The door stuck on the first try, swinging out only meagerly before a stiff wind kicked up and slammed it shut again. In pure frustration, I punched the side panel with a closed fist more times than I should have. I cried out, kicked the back wheel well, and after my tantrum was up I couldn't do anything more than lay limply on my side, panting and heaving to catch my breath.

Again, I tried the door, shoving it as hard as I could. The wind caught it a second time, from the opposite direction though, and slammed the car door wide enough for me to get out, if I dared. Technically, in my blood-loss filled brain, I didn't have a choice. I used the front of Steve's seat for support with one hand and the door frame with the other. Braced on either side, I shoved myself into the back seat.

I finally got a look at the world beyond the windows. There wasn't much to see. The hospital was more of a two-floor office building than a Level 1 New York trauma center, a place I had a keen understanding of given my lengthy history. Across the street was a Rite-Aid. Beside those two structures, nothing. Few cars lined the parking lots of either location. A mountain side towered over the distant landscape surrounding the buildings. There were no homes, people, or any other sign of civilization. Frankly, this wasn't exactly abnormal for Montana.

My duffle bag, and potentially my gun, rested on the floor to my left. Finding a way to lean down and grab the handle without also screaming bloody murder took a bit of dexterity.

I don't have dexterity.

So I just leaned over, screamed, fell on my side, and blacked out. I don't know how long it took me to come too, but it didn't really matter in the end. After all, I've got a hard head and things like giving up don't exactly jive. I rifled through the duffle bag, dragging whatever I found out and searched blindly for the 9mm I stuffed in there. Finally, the gun appeared. It was cocked, safety on, loaded, and ready to go. Thank God for the small things in life.

It was time to try the door again. I leaned up, noted that there was still no one rushing out of the hospital entrance with a deranged Laura Smith-Barton and a gurney loaded in crash carts. Not that I expected any different. So, Clint to the rescue again. Avenge the wife, the Avengers, and whoever the hell else was stuck in there. Here we go. Just got to get up.

 _Get up._

 _Clint, get the hell up._

My pep talk didn't work the first time, so I gave myself another break to roll on my good side toward the open car door. The open door who, at that moment, decided to blow closed a second time. I didn't have the energy to curse at it. My eyes closed again.

Someone knocked on the window.

Without thinking, I lifted the gun and waved it around. I can't imagine what I must have looked like, half unconscious in the back of an old station wagon, gun in a hand splattered by my own blood. The knocking stopped and instead the door yanked outward. The person grabbed my hand, pried my fingers off the weapon, my only defense, and took it away.

"Stop that, Clint! What happened? You got shot, didn't you? I just called you last week, you were supposed to leave the car in Cooke City!"

My foggy-laced vision tried to force open. I glanced up at the mop of hair pressed in over me. The fire in my side ignited under the probing fingers of the inquisitor.

"Who?" I tried to say.

"I need to get you out of the open. This whole town's hopping. Is this the only gun you have?"

My hand reached out and grabbed the person's sleeve, forcing him to look down at me.

"It's all right, Clint. Natasha's inside. She's got this."

* * *

I hope to have the next chapter up tonight or tomorrow!

-Please review!


	15. Chapter 14

Here's the next chapter of the night! hopefully another tomorrow, but we will see!

Batghost: Oh let the guesses abound!

The Spoiled Duchess: the wait is over!

JRBarton: Cliffhangers forever:)

jaguarspot: bahahahahaha!

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Chapter 14

Sam grabbed the captain under the arms and dragged for all he was worth. The shots followed him up the hall, sending him sprawling backward on the tile floor to avoid being stuck in the same position as Clint outside. He threw a glance over his shoulder at Laura propped against the doorway. She had a .45 in one hand and a shotgun teetering precariously on her left knee. Crouched beside the entryway, one would have thought Clint married Laura Croft, not Laura Smith.

"How many?" Sam said, dragging Steve a little further into the room.

"One," Laura replied, keeping low. She glanced down at the captain. "He out for the count?"

"That or dead," Sam replied grimly. In the safety of their abandoned exam room, he knelt over Steve's unconscious form. Two fingers searched for a pulse while the rest of him looked for blood. Beside the trail of it across the side of Steve's face, there was nothing to see. "Took a hard knock, but I think he's alive."

"Think or sure?" Laura asked. The .45 lifted, fired a single round, and Sam could hear the bullet ricocheted down the corridor.

"You're the doctor," Sam replied.

"Yeah, I guess I am." Laura tucked her head down, hunched her shoulders and crawled to him. She switched the safety on the hand gun and stuffed it in her waist band. The shotgun she pressed into his chest. "Watch that door. If she comes this way, wound her. If you kill my friend, I _will_ take it personally."

Grimly, Sam took the weapon and stole back to her position against the door. He looked up at the beveled glass pinned to the corner of the wall across from him. In its steady reflection he saw Natasha, striding up the hall with an Iron Man gauntlet in one hand and Cap's shield in the other. Sam's eyes shot back to Clint's wife.

"That's Natasha!" he exclaimed in a hushed tone.

"I know," Laura shot back, adjusting Steve on the floor. She rolled him onto his side, bleeding head wound face-up and nose to the tile. If he decided to vomit or seize, she didn't want him choking out on her.

"I went to the bathroom for like five minutes! When did this happen/"

Laura looked up at him. "I blame you. Who takes five minutes in a bathroom?! It was a front, all right! They must have known someone was injured, found Clint's blood, or they found the hotel room and squeezed the owner. I don't know. It's not my job to know this crap. It's your and it's Steve's. I am supposed to be the mom! What I _do_ know is that there are fifteen dead nurses behind the front desk, I sent three dead agents to join them, and Natasha hit Captain Rogers with his own shield. I didn't stay to ask questions!"

"Where's Tony and Clint?"

"Probably still outside!"

Sam groaned, facing the approaching former Russian Assassin. He hoped that she was just another specter, like the Phil they encountered before this horrid trip even started. He might feel less of a twinge against shooting someone he actually liked.

"We're sitting ducks in here," Sam pointed out.

"Find me a gurney or some place to stash Steve and we can move."

Ahead of him, Natasha rounded the corner. She glanced both ways, tracing the sound of the wild shot Laura sent down the hall. Sam pulled back out of sight. He put a finger to his lips and angled a thumb toward the hall. He expected Laura to search the exam room for a place to hide, or crawl under the bed. Instead, she poised over Steve's downed form, grabbed her gun, raised it in both hands, and waited like Calamity Jane. She would shoot and she would kill if she had too. Sam's throat ran dry as Natasha kept coming closer.

:(:):(:):

Bruce Banner checked Clint's gunshot wound first, noted the extent of it and switched his examination to the rest of Clint's body. All the while, Barton continued to watch him in a flabbergasted shock. Clint poked a finger at him, as if to prove the visage was true and yet still couldn't believe it.

Bruce batted his hand away. "Stop that. How old's this? When did you get shot?"

"Ye - - Last . . . yesterday night," Clint finally said.

"Where's Laura?"

"Inside."

"Let's get you up."

Bruce circled his arms around Clint's chest and pulled him out back-first. The archer had trouble getting his feet under him. His right leg was useless. The left could only drag lazily forward with each step Bruce took for them. Slowly Clint's memory started filtering back to him past the haze of confusion.

"Bill—Billings . . . We were . . . Canada . . ." Clint muttered as Bruce dragged him across the street in the direction of the Rite-Aid.

"I came down sooner than I thought. You were supposed to gas up the station wagon and leave the bag for me," Bruce said. He threw a glance over his shoulder to be sure no one was chasing after them, guns drawn.

"We did. I mean, we had. Plans got . . . Got shot."

Bruce adjusted Clint in his arms, lifting him up a little more. He could feel the archer fading out on him. "Hey, look, it's ok. I heard all the chatter about man hunts on my scanner and I figured you must have been in the thick of something. I tried to get here as fast as I could, but not a lot of people like to pick up hitchhikers this way. Clint? You listening to me?"

Clint's head lolled sideways, resting on Bruce's shoulder limply. He'd stopped trying to walk on his own and now leaned heavily on Bruce. The physicist was forced to stop, prop Clint up on the glass door of the store front, and banged on the entry. He tapped Clint's face with his hands.

"Hey, don't do that! Clint, keep talking to me. Tell me about the trip. You said you and Laura drove out by yourselves, how did Natasha managed to get involved? Clint, wake up!" Bruce's gentle face tap turned into a hard smack. Clint's eyes flung open and, balled fist flying first, he threw himself forward into Bruce. The doctor caught him easily. Just beside him, the front door of the Rite-Aid pushed open. Bruce and Clint turned at the same time to see the figure hanging out in the doorway.

Tony dropped his can of Pepsi.

* * *

-Please review!


	16. Chapter 15

And... I lied. Another chapter tonight before my inspiration dies!

* * *

Chapter 15

"What the Hell, Bruce?!" Tony exclaimed. "What are you doing here? How did you even get here?!"

"Tony, I had no idea you were here! Clint said Laura and him were doing the road trip alone. I didn't think—"

"Clint said? He knew where you were and I didn't? What the—"

Clint grabbed Bruce by the shoulder, shoved him away from the door, and slipped into the store. He grabbed a hand hold on a drink machine, limped to a front counter, shoved everything sitting on it to the floor, and rolled onto the table. Bruce and Tony followed him inside, fighting the entire way.

Bruce rolled up his sleeves, "Look, Tony, I told Clint because I needed someone who could make me disappear off SHIELD and HYDRA, and whoever else's radar. He showed me how to program the Avenjet, so I just took off, all right? I'm trying to keep myself out of jail!"

"You would have never gone to jail!" Tony shouted. He punched a finger into Clint's clavicle. "You are _so_ not off the hook for this!"

"Leave him be and go to the pharmacy aisle. Get me a roll of cotton, some Ace bandages, and some ice from the freezer," Bruce ordered.

Tony turned on his heel. "We are not done talking about this just because Clint's trying to die. How could you leave like that? I thought we were friends! Does that only mean something to me?!" Tony shouted as he moved farther away.

The store was abandoned, hastily it appeared. No one bothered to lock up the pharmacy, the cashier's drawer, or even the front door. It was as if everyone in the place simply blinked out of existence all at the same time. Walking in to steal himself a phone, Tony assumed he'd have to put on a smile and flash his Avenger's winning smile. Instead he ended up with nothing but a dial tone, and Vision's Jarvis-sounding voice on the other end of the Avenger's hotline. Call to the Calvary made, he only had to hold down the fort long enough for everyone else to show up. Naturally, Bruce's appearance, caught him off guard.

"I was going to come back after the heat died down!" Bruce shouted back. His finger worked Clint's bandage loose. He watched the skin for a while, determined that nothing was actively bleeding, and left the bandage off. "Hey, get me some saline too!"

"You know what, this demanding nature is not endearing you back to me in any way," Tony complained. He searched the aisle for Bruce's requests and filled his arms in materials. Laden in supplies, he returned to the two. Bruce muscled the cash register over the back of the counter along with a shelf of Celebrity Magazine, Lindor Truffles, and a plethora of gum packs. Together the two began cracking the supplies open and laid them out.

"I guess this means Cap and the others are across the street with the rest of them? Why didn't you go? And where's your suit?" Bruce asked, picking up the bottle of saline. He pealed the protective cover off and up-ended the entire liter over Clint's bullet hole. The archer punched him in the leg and grabbed the side of the counter angrily.

Tony lifted an eyebrow. "Rest of them? Rest of who? Spangles and Kid Wonder went bounding into the ER with Clint's wife to get him some help. Then they never came out. I decided to do the very "Captain America" thing and came over here to send a bat signal to Vision and Princess Witchy."

"What about Natasha?" Bruce grabbed the pack of ice and lifted Clint's arm, shoving the ice directly against his skin. Clint wound up for another punch, but Bruce avoided it.

"What about her? She's been in Wyoming at the Secret Agent Base since this whole thing started."

Bruce's hands stopped, they hovered with a bottle of alcohol in one hand, poised over Clint's open wound. Seeing it, Barton looked around for a way he might scramble off the table unseen by the two of them. He'd already been doused in enough noxious liquid in his mind. Adding that to the rest of what he'd suffered through was more than he wanted to bear without another morphine hit.

Bruce shook his head. "No she's not. She's across the street. I saw her go into the hospital with a bunch of SHIELD officers before you showed up. I heard the gunshots and steered clear of it. I circled back around when I heard the new car pull up and I recognized the license plate." Bruce set down the bottle of alcohol, allowing Clint a chance to relax.

Opening his wallet, Bruce produced a business card. On the front was the name Jackson Jamison Smith written to the left of an outline of three chickens. On the back was Clint's clearly printed handwriting. It gave a date, time, address, and described the station wagon. Tony snatched the card and held it over Clint's face.

"You made him an exit strategy and never even told me?! That's it. You two are officially off the Christmas card list. Forget about the chocolates for Valentine's Day. I'm returning everything."

"Don't be mad at Clint. I reached out to him. Laura gave me the card when I showed up at the farm," Bruce said, returning it to his pocket. "I was just going to lie low at his place, that's all. Then Clint came back and said the farm was out. I was trying to help find them a new one. I had an old flop house in Canada, but it was occupied by one of Phil's friends. I was supposed to meet Laura and Clint in Colorado two weeks from now."

"You were just going to live with Clint and the kids?" Tony growled.

Bruce shrugged. "Yeah. Where else was I going to go? Laura thought it was a great idea. They needed an extra hand with the new baby."

Tony rubbed his face with his hands. Beside him, Clint reached trepidously up to him and tugged the end of Tony's shirt.

"Guys . . . can . . . my wife . . . maybe someone can save, you know . . . chat later?"

Bruce and Tony exchanged a glance.

"Feeling a little green?" Tony asked.

"No. And if I see Natasha, I might actually smash her."

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-Please review!


	17. Chapter 16

I'm so...sorry...

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Batghost: FAKE EVERYONE! MUHAHAHAHAH Not really. or really? And Nice call!

The Spoiled Duchess: yes she absolutely is:)

tlyxor1: Who really is who they say they are? When will we know? (i honestly have no idea)

hazelfeather17777: let the intense nail biting, Clint-hugging commence!

I-OfTheHawk: I like to think of it as Tony's dose of his own medicine. :)

Qweb: LOL! Tony managed to get into a fight with the others in the midst of the Helicarrier falling from the sky. I could totally see him just duking it out over who ate the last chocolate muffin with clint during an epic battle.

Niom Lamboise: :D we will just let this book be the "interactive" book. LOL

discordchick: Totally Laura Croft. Poor Clint. I've been so mean to him, but at least technically speaking it's only been about 24-36 about not talking to Natasha Ever. I've got some plans for that...

mafiabro: Request granted! And Laura/Pepper/Natasha all leading the world would be absolutely hilarious.

amy. .9 : I am so sad at the chapter shortness, but the struggle is real.

m klindt: hehehehehe... I am never not going to be mean. We all know what happened to Arrow...

jaguarspot I love that "We are not done talking" line too. Too hilarious!. I think you may have just guessed correctly about Phil's friend also:)

Jesuslovesmarina YAY! YOU READ IT! I'm so happy you liked it. honestly. the smiles abound! Oh, Bruce and Natasha have some unfinished business for sure.

* * *

Chapter 16

Sam raised the rifle to his shoulder. A few steps behind him, Laura trained the pistol a little farther left and coincidentally straight at the wall. The .45 had just enough penetration to shoot through it if Laura had a mind to pull the trigger. Something told Sam that she would have no reservations about doing just that.

Sam watched the hall mirror as Natasha came closer. Cap's shield protected the vital parts of her body. The only shot he could take, if he planned to shoot at all, would be one arm or her legs and feet. He decided to think outside the box and appeal to whatever part of Natasha might exist. He knew as well as everyone else that there were times in the Avenger past where the team had been controlled in one way or another and forced to turn on each other. If this truly was the Avenger and not some body snatching amalgamation of the Natasha he knew, Sam didn't want to risk hurting her.

"Tasha?" He wasn't daring enough to stand from his position and reveal himself, but he did call out to her. "Natasha? It's Sam. I'm Sam Wilson and I am hunkered down back here because all of a sudden everyone started shooting people. I have a shot gun in my hands. I will turn it on you if you come any closer."

Natasha reflection slowed. She came to a stop only a few steps away from the open door. She seemed to not hear him, or at the least not understand what it was he tried to say to her. Her face was strangely blank, distant, her arm raised with Tony's gauntlet fixed to fire.

"Don't do that!" Sam exclaimed, lifting the shot gun. "Natasha, don't make me shoot you!"

Her fingers twitched. The shield drew slightly closer against her body, bracing for the return fire. Nothing would stop her. Nothing could—

A gun shot echoed in the small room. Suddenly Natasha flew off balance as a stripe of blood exploded in the air. Laura stood from her crouch, entered the hall instantly, and before Natasha had a chance to raise Tony's gauntlet, Laura fired a second time. The bullet passed through the assassin's left leg and forced her to collapse to one side. Laura kept coming. She yanked back Steve's shield, pulled it out of her grasp, and flung it sideways against Natasha's face. The assassin's head whipped to one side and she lay still. Laura knelt down beside her, pulling off Tony's gauntlet and assessing the fresh bullet wound in the Avenger's arm and leg. Sam staggered into the hall behind her and stared, dumb founded, at the scene.

"What did you do?!" he exclaimed.

"Cognitive recalibration," Laura replied, switching the safety back on to her gun before stuffing it into her waistband again.

"Cognitive what?!"

She shot a look at him. "It worked for Clint once. He told me so in case he ever ended up with Loki inside his head again. I know how to hit someone and I'm a doctor, so I know where to shoot someone too. Now help me drag her in there. Whoever's pulling her strings is probably around here somewhere."

"How do we know it's really her?" Sam asked, dropping down to help.

"I don't. I'm going to tie her up with whatever I can find and figure it out later. Don't grab that arm! I just shot her there! How would you feel? Set her next to Steve." Laura helped maneuver Natasha in the room then stood and went to the first set of stainless steel drawers she could find. She ripped them open, searched inside, and rifled for something. It took opening half the wall's worth of exam room material before she finally found a few rolls of gauze and bandages. She returned with them in her hand. "Guard that door while I tie her up."

"I thought you said there was only one out there," Sam said, complying.

"I don't know for sure."

"You think Tony and Clint came in on their own?"

"It wouldn't surprise me, so don't shoot them."

Sam tilted his head to the side. "You know, between the two of us, the only one who shot anybody is you."

Laura pointed a deadly-looking finger at him. "Do not start with me, bird-man. I am a woman on the edge! I am tired. I am hungry. I have no home. I want my babies and my husband is bleeding in the back of a car. I will shoot whoever I have to if it means brining my family home again."

"Well do me a favor and remember I'm actually one of the good—" Sam's voice abruptly cut off. Something grabbed him by the shoulders, lifted, and flung him backwards. He sailed up and slammed back-first into the convex mirror at the corner of the hallway. Laura scrambled to get her gun free and flick the safety off again. The form of a man which had so quickly appeared directly in front of her vanished again.

He reappeared in the hallway, took Sam by the shirt font and threw him again, this time against the adjacent wall. Laura heard him land with a sickening _thud_. The man vanished a second time. Her gun was in her hands. She waited, breath caught in her chest and a cold chill ran up her spine.

"Cap!?"

Her heart leaped into her throat. _Clint_. Clint had come in looking for them! How did he get in the building? Laura scrambled to her feet, edging into the hall. The gun pointed straight ahead of her, tracing every direction her eyes faced. Sam was standing at the other end of the hall and trying to fight off the disappearing man. Laura aimed her gun at them, but the enhanced turned instantly in her direction.

She screamed.

The man had no eyes. A stack of flesh covered where they had once been, showing nothing but an empty, horrifying expression smeared in a splatter of Sam's blood. He had Falcon in one hand, lifted off the ground, and proceed to begin choking him. How he knew Laura's finger was on the trigger, that at any moment the bullet may come flying in his direction, she would never know. As quickly as he appeared he was gone yet again. Sam hit the floor on his rear, coughing and sputtering to breathe again.

"Cap!"

She turned around. Clint entered the hall. His face softened instantly at seeing her. "Oh my God, are you all right? Where is everyone?" He asked, coming forward.

Laura stepped back into the doorway, her body shaking. Her hand faltered on the weapon, but not enough to let it fall through her fingers. "Cl—Clint?" she whispered.

"What happened?" he asked again, continued to walk to her. "Are they in there? Cap and—Sam, is that you? Are you all right?" Clint's attention shifted from her to Sam. The Falcon was still attempting to pick himself up after the surprise beating he'd taken by the disappearing man.

Clint stood in front of his wife, facing Sam and appearing at ease. He shifted his eyes to her then noticed both Cap and Natasha on the floor. "Are they bleeding? Where's Tony? Didn't he come in here with you?"

Laura took another step away from him. It didn't seem real or possible. In her heart, she knew it couldn't be her Clint. This creature, whatever it was, walked perfectly normally. Healthy, healed, no evidence of Clint's injury, and no sign of the torture they'd been through. He wore Clint's clothes, sounded the same as her husband, and yet it couldn't possibly be him. Backing away, her heel connected with Natasha's side. Maybe it wasn't Natasha at all either.

Hands shaking, tears threatening to form in her eyes, the .45 raised in the distance between Laura's chest and Clint's. His expression turned curious.

"What are you doing? It's me. It's Clint," the man said. His eyes were the same. The corners of his mouth twinged up in the prefect way that Clint's did when he thought she was being ridiculous. Unafraid, the man strode toward her and reached his hand out to take the gun from her. "Stop fulling around and give me that."

Laura squeezed the trigger, angling the shot only millimeters from the man's neck. The shot ricocheted in the hallway and sent the man in front of her diving to the left for fear of being struck. He reached a hand up to his neck, feeling the flesh to assure that there was no break in his skin.

"You almost shot me!" he exclaimed. "What are you thinking?! Are you crazy! It's me!"

Laura returned the gun sight to the center of his chest. "Say my name."

He blinked, surprised. "What?"

"My name. If you are Clint Barton, then tell me my name." Laura's hands steadied. By her feet, Steve began to come around. He shifted onto his back, moaning as he tried to bring the world into focus again.

"Hey, look, I don't know what happened in here, but I am who I said. Steve needs help and we need to get out of here," he tried to step inside again. Laura's finger tightened on the trigger.

"I asked one thing!" she shouted.

"We don't have time for this!"

"Tell me who I am!"

"Put down the gun!"

"Not until you—"

"Laura."

A gust of air rushed out of her. Her mouth dropped open a little. Her finger accidentally slipped on the trigger and suddenly the gun jumped in her hands. There was no rush of blood. No shock or scream, or even a reaction. The man standing across from her, wearing her husband's face, simply looked down at the new hole in his chest and tsked.

"You shouldn't have done that," he growled. Reaching forward, he threw the back of his hand out in an arc, catching her across the jaw and dropping her to the floor. The gun skittered away from her. It had proved useless anyway.

The man's expression changed. Something dark, evil, overtook him. His eyes sharpened like a serpent. Smoothly, with all the suavity of Loki himself, the false Hawkeye leaned on the door frame with a smirk. Suddenly the other enhanced, the disappearing man, reappeared beside him.

The false Clint sighed. "You can go ahead and pretend we don't know who you are, all you want. Laura Smith. Mother of three. Cooper, Lila, and little Nathan Pietro. Clint's idea, right? How touching to name a kid after a dead guy he never even liked. The Avengers are cake toppers. A little surprise investment to help us track down what we actually wanted." As he spoke, he rounded Steve's fallen form. Pausing beside the captain for a moment, he let his boot come down harshly against the side of the captain's face. It pitched jarringly away from him with a _pop_. The disappearing man chuckled a little, folding his arms.

"Clint's hard to find. I grant him that. But he hides you like a dragon hoards gold. We almost had you once in Eastern Europe. Gordon here was planning on showing up once we cleared a few technical issues on our end. But no. The Avengers just had to stroll right in and steal our thunder, didn't they?" the man's serpentine eyes narrowed. "This little story was never about Hawkeye."

A cold pit formed in Laura's stomach.

"You belong with us," he went on. "Inhumans. The rest of the world can't understand us. They don't _get_ us. You think when Barton finds out what you really are he'd be able to take it? The real reason why you have all those extra gravestones on that Barton family plot."

"How dare you," Laura rasped.

He shrugged. "You're a mother. Three of them made it. Think of your kids. All of them born with that same alien gene just waiting to rear its head. Waiting for the right catalyst . . ." The man's face began to shift. Laura watched as it rearranged. The nose flattened, broadened, the eyes enlarging and turning a solid white. He was a monster masquerading in a man's body. He held out his hand over the downed bodies of Natasha and Steve. Tucked in his palm was something she had never seen before, a strange cylindrical object as black as coal.

"We told HYDRA we just wanted you and they screwed the pooch taking Fury. We wanted your boy and your girl, and they were the idiots who left her behind. Even now, we have someone bringing your children here. You have to be with them. You need to come with us. This will be your awakening." He pressed the strange object closer to her. "Let's just see what sort of Inhuman you are!"

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yeah...I'm actually not sorry.

no surprise, right? HEHEHEHEHEHHEHE.

So what is this? Is Laura Smith, daughter of Jackson Jamison Smith, the world's foremost Poultry King really a descendant of the Kree gene experiments? Is this why i have been writing this series since "Avenge Me"? Does this incompatibility between Clint and her explain the sad, horrifying deaths of their innocent kids? E-GAD! What have i done?!

-Please review!


	18. Chapter 17

I'm so...sorry...

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jaguarspot: HAHAHAHA. Don't worry about that. Spoilers over. The only actual spoiler is Kinda Gordon, kinda the "obelisk"/Diviner thing. And I am super evil:)

discordchick: Poor babies! Little Natasha, little Clint... ugh the pain! Who knows what's actually happening! I don't know what's actually happening!

tpt player 5701: Fantastic insight! I hadn't really thought of it much when i wrote the chapter frantically yesterday, so I did a little research. According to some comics there have been evidence of Inhumans and Humans breeding if you go with the comic arc that Inhumans are kind of like mutants (forget the name of the comics that went this route, but they played it like X-genes, except instead of activating at puberty, the Kree gene influence only appeared after the terragenic mist conversion). I was just going to go with a little hehehehe, poetic license, but I think I'll go with this instead! Thanks for the review!

Niom Lamboise: Will she even have a choice? hmmmmmm...

mafiabro: Emotions will soon abound.

The Spoiled Duchess : Yes, yes she totally is! hahahahahaha. Sorry for robbing your sleep!

Batghost: muhahahahaha!

tlyxor1: your review made me laugh so hard, i nearly fell out of bed and hit my head on a side table. thank you. It was the best moment ever. My blind cat was very concerned :)

I-OfTheHawk: Fan girl on! And imagine all the possible abilities Laura might have if she actually is an Inhuman...then again, also think about little Lila and her Asgardian obsession . . .

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Chapter 18

"Gordon, we've got a problem. Two Avengers inbound, two others across the street working their way here," a man dressed in a SHIELD uniform jogged over to where Gordon leaned in the doorway. He glanced inside at the shape-shifter, Natasha, Steve, and Laura sitting in a ring of black ash. His name tag read Daniels. "Hodge, did you hear me? Four Avengers inbound and one of them is the Hulk."

Across from Laura, the shape shifter, Hodge, had a change of heart. "Gordon can't transport Hulk sizes. We're done here. Grab her. Take this," He picked up the black artifact and shoved it into Gordon's hands. "Set the charges and roast them. Everyone's lives will be easier with less Avengers in it. Where's the Hawk?"

"Checked the car they rolled in on, someone must have moved him."

"Find him. Kill him. I don't need another screw up."

Laura screamed.

Hodge looked down. His white eyes haunted her. "Daniels, do what you can to persuade Mrs. Barton to see our point of view."

Gordon grabbed Hodge's bicep as the shape shifter passed him. "We should get out now. Persuade her later."

"If you want to transport an unstable, new, Inhuman through the energy vortex, that's on you. I might just wait for the next trip, if you know what I mean," Hodge pointed out. "Set the charges. The Avengers aren't worthy of the Diviner. They will crumble and they will fall in the Terrigen mist and become nothing more than dust. Just like everyone else in this town who dared to cross us."

Gordon considered the Diviner in his hands. It wouldn't take much. The packet of C4 they brought along for emergency situations would be enough to not only maim the coming Avengers, it would also set off the powerful black mist that rose from the ancient artifact. Through patience, and careful study, the Avengers were already cleared from the Inhuman's system of potential descendants of those Ancient Kree gene experiments. Not many in the world had the ability to be reborn in the gifts of the Diviner which made their mission all that more perilous. They must close ranks. Recruit more of their own. Become the new race that could not be stopped, manipulated, or controlled. Laura and her children were four pieces to that ever expanding puzzle. Children of an Avenger and an Inhuman. They were survivors. His vision for their future meant everything.

Diviner in hand, he vanished.

Daniels approached the woman. He knelt down, a peculiar, disarming, smile on his face. He noticed the blood on Natasha's pant leg and the work Laura had done to tie her friend up. His smile rested on Steve for only a moment, and then he returned to her. "I think you can understand that trying to resist won't work. If I could befriend the good Captain and take over the Black Widow herself, then you pose no challenge for me. So why don't you be a cooperative new recruit and just come along with the rest of us?"

Laura shook her head adamantly, but her words had quite flown away from her. Her body trembled. Facing HYDRA, alone, with only her son and unborn baby was one thing. These people were more than she ever imagined. Clint faced this? Every day when he put on his suit and stepped into the world he was meeting these people? Was this what it felt when Loki came to him, stole him, and forced him out of his own family's arms?

"You belong with us," the persuader said in a smooth, silky voice like freshly melted chocolate. His hand reached forward to touch her. That was all it would take. One touch. "Give in. Come with us if you want to see your children again."

The dam broke.

Laura lifted her shoe and her size 9 Champion Lace-Up working mom tennis shoe went sailing heel-first into the agent's nose. He hollered, flinging backward with his hands covering the waterfall of red flowing out of his face. It was one thing to try and take her away or threaten to murder Clint. It was a different thing to steal her babies. Laura reached over and grabbed Steve's shield she pulled it tightly against her as she ran from the room. Her flight took her up the walkway to where Sam was just managing to limp in her direction. Laura had a plan. Get the gun. Shoot their way out. Save the others. Get the Hell out of Dodge.

As if he could sense their strategy, Gordon reappeared. The Diviner was gone, but he was set and ready to force Laura away.

"Stop!" Sam exclaimed. He raised the shotgun. Laura dropped down beside his knees like a lead weight covered in Steve's shield. Gordon reached out to slap the muzzle away before Sam could pull the trigger.

Then, the Avengers arrived. Floating through the wall, the intangible form of Vision appeared at Gordon's back. He reached forward, his hand entered through Gordon's chest, and instantly the Vision re-materialized. Gordon's breath caught in his throat. His face tilted down. His eyeless expression examining the peculiar arm sticking out of him. The Vision yanked backward, freeing himself and leaving the bloody trench behind. The Inhuman remained on his feet. Too shocked to fall, to scream, or to fight back. His blood leaked to the floor in thick, heavy droplets. For the last time, Gordon vanished from them, alone.

Sam panted, his hand bracing on the wall. "You have no idea how much I wish I could do that right now."

Vision nodded. "I suppose it is something I can imagine. You are unwell. I believe you require medical attention."

"You got that right. Cap's down the hall. Tasha's shot."

Laura slowly uncovered herself from the Captain's shield. "Vision?" she breathed. The human synthanoid made a slight bow. She had heard of him from Clint, but still the voice seemed utterly alien to her. JARVIS in human form. Tony's little brain child. As much as she had witnessed over the past twenty minutes, Laura wasn't sure she could take any more.

The entire ceiling above them exploded inward. A figure descended from the sky like a cannon ball and smashed into the hospital tile work. The blond head lifted. "Fair sister! The Vision has uncovered you. I thank Odin's Beard that you are safe!"

Laura scrambled to her feet and threw herself into Thor's chest. "Thank God you're here!" She pulled back slightly. "They set something. A bomb. Something about turning the Avengers to dust. I don't know what they did. They called themselves Inhumans. I need my husband! They're trying to kill him! They called it some kind of mist-"

A curse slipped through Sam's lips.

Vision's eyebrows knit. "Language!" he admonished.

Thor took her by the shoulders and angled her toward the fellow caped Avenger. "I know of this danger of which you speak. I will uncover it and destroy it. Keep the others out. Friend Banner has our injured teammate across the street in the Aid of Rite. This debauchery shall not go unpunished."

:(:):(:):

Laura climbed down out of Visions hands and rushed through the open doorway Bruce propped out for her. Flustered and overcome, she followed his direction to the figure laid out on the counter top. "Clint!" she exclaimed, collapsing beside him. He pressed his hand against her face pulling her closer to him. She could feel the tension flood right out of him the moment they came together.

"We can't stay long," Bruce said. He nodded toward Vision and hiked a thumb at the door. The synthanoid left them to rejoin the others.

"I have to call the kids! Clint, they told me they have them. I don't know what to think anymore. I'm so confused. I—"

"S'—ok. S—Br . . . Bruce, phone."

Banner leaned over the counter and riffled through the materials to grab the phone they'd thrown to the floor. He found the receiver first, followed the cord, and came up with the rest of it eventually. He handed it to her. "We have to make it fast, I'm getting the both of you out of here. I know a place."

"Where? He can't drive. I need to get him inside." Laura yanked the dial pad over and set it beside Clint's face. Still holding him for dear life, her fingers frantically jabbed the buttons.

"It's a doctor, trust me. And discreet," Bruce told her.

As the phone began to ring on the other end, Laura wrapped her hands against Clint's arm. She just needed to hold him. Clint had always been an anchor in her life. Frankly, he caused more storms than he helped smooth over, but he remained there forever, proving time and again he would go through Hell and back to protect his family.

"Natasha, Steve, Sam . . . they all need help. I don't know how we can bring them all."

"Natasha?!" Bruce exclaimed.

Laura nodded. "I shot her. Twice."

"You did what?!"

 _"Smith residence. Jackson Jam—"_

"Dad!" Laura exclaimed, pressing the phone against her ear. "Dad, I need the kids. Where are they? Is Cooper there? I need to speak to Cooper, please, Dad, put him on the phone."

Clint tried to sit up. Bruce placed a hand on him to try and keep him down. "Kids?"

 _"Laura, what's wrong? Did that dang husband of yours do something again? Look, I will come right over there if I need to and show him a—"_

Clint reached over and snatched the receiver. "Look!" he growled, wincing under the strain of his pain and dry throat. "I've just spent the last day with a bullet in my guts and high on morphine trying to keep a slew of trained killers from murdering us and leaving our kids orphans. If you don't put my son on the phone right now, I will come over there and put one of my arrows through your left eye and you can have something in common with Nick Fury. Got that?! Put my son on the phone and let him talk to his mother!" Without waiting for any reply, Clint returned the receiver to Laura.

" _Mom?"_

Laura clutched the phone. Tears dropping from her eyes. Her voice threatened to crack under the strain of her excitement and relief. "Coop?" she whispered.

Clint squeezed her shoulder.

"Coop, it's me. It's mom. Daddy? He's right next to me. What—Odin? The vet?" she held her hand over the receiver and reported, "Odin caught a cold. Lila wants to be a doctor and a Valkyrie now."

Clint's eyes closed, choking up.

"I'm glad to hear he's feeling better. We're coming home. Soon, yes. We're coming. Do you—Ok, hold on." Laura brought the phone to Clint's ear. At the sound of his son's voice, Clint came apart.

"H—hey, big guy," Clint told him. "Me? I'm fine. Ya know. Work. S'ok. Uncle Bruce's here. I'm - - I wanna see you soon."

Laura held the phone again. "Coop? Is Uncle Phil still there? Tell him to stay at the house for me. I have to go, but I'm going to call you again soon. I promise. Just tell Uncle Phil to stay close. I love you too Coop. Tell your sister hello, and kiss Nathan for us. Daddy says he loves you." The phone slipped from her hands. Bruce gently lifted it and set the receiver back down on the base, ending the call.

"I don't know what to believe," Laura whispered to them, shaking her head. We were just going for a drive. That was all. He said they took them. They took our kids and they wanted me, and—" her voice broke into a sob. Clint squeezed her a little tighter against himself. "They knew our names," she whispered against him. "All of us. All of our nightmares are coming true."

"There's one we can still stop, and that's saving Clint's life." Bruce told them. "But unless we get moving now, then it's going to be too late to do something about it. Clint, we're going for a bumpy ride. I promise the other guy will be on his best behavior . . . I hope . . ."

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thinks I totally made up: Agent Daniels, the shape shifter Hodge, and the word Synthanoid. Shamelessly just making crap up guys:)

-Please review! only 1-2 more chapters left!


	19. Chapter 18

Looks like the notification system/e-mail system for fanfic is down. so PLEASE READ the last chapter before this one if you haven't yet!

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mafiabro: hahaahahahaha! Laura kicks butt for sure:) and...there is going to be a reason why...

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Chapter 18

My intestines didn't need to be cut out but my hip was busted. The way I had leaned when scaling the tree apparently shifted all my insides around just enough to avoid that fatal blow which had both me and my wife praying. To be more accurate, the bullet entered my lower right side and lodged in my iliac wing, causing it to break off of the rest of my pelvis. This, while entirely disconcerting to me, had no effect on the guy keeping an eye on me. At least I thought it was a guy.

I woke up in an unfamiliar room that smelled vaguely of lavender and burnt plastic. Some spice necklaces dangled along the walls with nutmeg, sage, bay leaf, and whatever else all strung up in neat lines. An Indian blanket was tacked up over the window and blew inward gently with the sand of the world outside. The thin white tassels on the end of the blanket passed over the shoulder of the peculiar person sitting on a skin drum across from me. Still they didn't move. I think I must have been dreaming.

The person had a black bear skin on its head. The two stout ears poked up only a few inches back behind the black bead eyes and long brown snout. The nose had worn away slightly, making it less shiny by comparison to the dusty coat. The person's face was painted in a crackly white makeup and streaks of pure black like trails of tears. The person just sat across from me, saying nothing.

I moved slightly, trying to adjust my hands. A long line of tubes followed along with me. One of them red, the other clear. I followed the lines up to a cluster of bags hanging on a Command hook someone stuck to the wall. Blood and fluids. No surprise there. What kind of place was I in?

The bearskin rose from the drum and sauntered over to me. The two faces came low, right in front of me. I realized behind the strange painted makeup the person was actually an old woman.

"Gramma! Jeez, get out! You're freaking people out being dressed like that! Go make some sugar cookies or something."

I looked down past my feet to see a massive, black-haired man step through the room door. He waved at the old lady, shooing her off like he was scattering pigeons in Central Park. The woman turned on him, rattling a turtle shell and hollering something distinctly foreign. She disappeared out the way he came in.

"Mornin', Hawkeye. You've been through a spell. Sorry 'bout the old lady. She saw that new Lone Ranger movie and now she thinks she's Tonto. Everyone knows he was a Potawatomi and we're all Sioux, but she don't care." The, apparently Sioux man, went over to my line of fluids and began untangling the lines I had apparently rolled over. I considered pointing out how concerned I was about being in a strange room surrounded by strangers and not in a strange hospital surrounded by scrub-wearing strangers.

"I'm Jake Red Fox. I don't know anything about Twilight and I don't turn into a werewolf, neither have I ever seen a sparkly vampire," he introduced.

"Glad to get that out the way," I whispered and tried to swallow. My tongue felt thick and heavy.

"People see someone like me, it's kinda the first thing they ask," Jake explained. He found a fold-up stadium chair next to the wall and dragged it over. "You're friend came by the other day and dropped you off. Happens to be a good friend of mine too. You're at a Reservation Clinic in Sheridan. It's pretty close to Canada but we don't say "aye" here so you know the difference. Dr. Banner used to hang around these parts back in the day he was a lost and wandering soul. My Gramma would quiet his soul in the sweat lodge out back with the songs of our tribe and the passing of our sacred sage."

My eyebrow lifted. "Um . . . that's cool."

A smile broke out on his face. "I'm totally fooling with you. Dr. Banner hid in our shed one winter and she chased him out with a broom and broke her hip. He helped us out caring for her and he hung around for a while in flu season to run the clinic. The look on your face though, I couldn't resist making some crap up. You're wife's outside. I'll go get her for ya." Jake patted my arm in a friendly way and slipped into the next room. Yup. Only Bruce Banner (and probably me) could make a strange friend like that.

A cluster of frantic feet booted across the floor and suddenly my wife was standing in the doorway. Her eyes were wide and expressive as she hurried over and dropped into the chair Jake unfolded. She draped her fingers along the stubble growing like a weed under my chin.

"You big dope," she whispered. I knew what she meant to say, _"you big ball of adorably huggable six packs in a deadly arrow-shooting-compact-alien-killing body"._ Yup. I was all that and a bag of skittles.

I murmured back, "Don't look now, but I think we're in a western novel." It was official. I felt better. "Tell me honestly, love cakes, do my scars and manly crying make you think any less of me?"

Her smile grew. "Yes, they do. I've decided I'm running off with Bruce."

"Why not? Everyone else is, apparently."

"You missed the fight."

"Fight?"

She nodded. Sensing that I was not in the process of dying and could, in fact, manage some level of consciousness, Laura got up, shoved be aside in the twin bed I'd been placed on, and cuddled up next to me. It took a little maneuvering to get my lines of IV tubes hooked around her back and draping off the side of the bed. "It was a big to-do getting everyone up here. Steve's in a neck brace for a few more days. He's mad he missed out on all the excitement. Sam broke his collar bone, he's in a sling. Natasha has a few flesh wounds."

"Flesh wounds?"

"I had to shoot her."

"You **_shot_** Nat?"

Laura smacked my chest with the flat of her hand. "I apologized! She was being controlled by that Hydra/ Inhuman guy. I wasn't going to let her kill us. She has a concussion too." I tried to hide the burst of laughter, but it choked in my throat instead. Laura smacked me a second time. "It isn't funny, Clint! She was really out of it. This man's dangerous, like what you told me about Wanda and Loki. I didn't want to take any chances. Not on our lives."

I decided it was in the best interest of my chest to stop pushing there. I didn't know what an Inhuman was, or who she was talking about, or anything else really. It was just nice to be with her. "You said a fight?"

She nodded, sighing against me. God, it felt good to just lay here with her against me. "Bruce and Nat had it out. I didn't know she was playing him, did you?"

I shook my head.

"Well, Bruce figured it out, apparently, when she pushed him off a tower into a big empty pit during the Ultron fight. I've never seen him mad like that without, you know . . ."

"Turning into a massive green rage monster?"

She nodded.

"She say why she did it?"

"To get him away from Tony."

I thought about that for a while. I didn't like it and I was sure that Tony and Bruce didn't either. I could see where she came from though. Bruce Banner and Tony Stark were the biggest brains outside of Asgard. When those two got together they didn't decide to try and end world hunger. Instead Bruce worked on his gamma radiation sequencing, Ton made the Iron legion, and together they created Ultron and became parties to the Frankenstein Monster, Vision, himself. Whether they liked it or not and regardless of their intentions, they were dangerous together.

"How'd Bruce take that?"

"The Hulk tried to smash her."

"Hmm," I thought. Natasha was a web and always would be. I didn't agree with all her decisions in life, and least of all the ones that sent one our own away. Knowing that my best friend was not actively out to seduce another friend helped me feel a little better. "I told you I didn't see it. Didn't I say that?"

Laura laughed a little. "You are not allowed to claim I told you so."

"I don't see why not."

"Because only moms can say that."

My lip turned up in a smirk. Mom code. I lost every time. "Is that all I missed? The kids still at your parents?"

"Nope. They're outside riding Lila's pony."

I pulled away from her a little, trying to decide if she was joking or not. "Coop? Lila? Everyone?"

"You want them to come in?"

I tried to push myself up. "Heck yeah! I want my kids! Is it safe? Are they going to be ok?"

"They're safe now. I'll be right back. Don't get up! Just stay there and I'll bring them in."

"Is Nathan here too?"

"Everyone, Clint," she replied, disappearing through the next room. I could see a few shadows moving. The floor creaked and shifted as whoever was out there moved around. Before I knew it, a thunder of feet took off on the rickety floor boards and my room was invaded. Lila swan-dove into my bed. I yelped at the sudden intrusion on my newly healing self. Ignoring her father's pain, Lila strolled right up to my face and threw herself over me. Her little arms circled my neck and I absolutely melted.

You don't know until you have a little girl. Those things are like candy or really good heroin (not that I would know about heroin). I just wanted to squeeze the life out of her and never let my baby go again. I never knew I could possibly love someone this much after I fell in love with Laura. Then there was Cooper. My boy. My first son. I grabbed him in a headlock, blood transfusion forgotten, and forced him into the bed too. My kids. These were my kids, no one else's. Everything I did in life, I did for them. Nothing mattered but keeping them safe, happy, fed, and loved. Occasionally, I forgot to feed them. I wasn't dad of the year by any stretch of the imagination.

Laura sat at the end of the bed with Nathan in her arms and our family was complete.

Well, almost.

Suddenly a growing cat showed up and shoved its face against mine. Two front paws, nails extending with every "pushy paw", as Lila called it, made little needle marks in my chest. Odin purred loud enough to vibrate his entire body. Ok, so maybe our family was a little bigger than I initially assessed. A cat and a new pony? I could handle that.

Then Bruce appeared. The guy saved me. I grant him that. No one else took the time to turn green and literally carry me and my wife all the way to his friend's place. The first one to actually succeed in getting me medical help. Bruce got the gold star of the day.

After Bruce came Sam. Sam defended my wife. Sam helped get me out of the thick of it. Ok, Sam could stay too.

Steve poked his head over Sam's shoulders to look inside at us. Steve shot me. I'm on the fence about Steve.

"What is this, an exhibition?" I said out to them. "Gimme a little privacy! I'm trying to find my happy place!"

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yup, definitely one chapter left, and it the epilogue!


	20. Epilogue

This is it!

JRBarton: Here it is! the very end! We will see where it goes from here!

Niom Lamboise: thank you!

discordchick:hahahaa! i loved the hashtag! Oh, Clint, he always thinks he's so funny.

Jesuslovesmarina: I love that Indian Grandma! We'll wrap some things up about Laura here...

Batghost: LOL, true, true... I was a lazy author!

I-OfTheHawk: Ahhhhh cliffhangers, they ARE my friends:) As to the Inhumans... you will see!

amy. .9 : Hope i wrap up most of the questions here! might have to revisit this book again later just so that I make the writing a little better. Didn't know where it was going at first, and nor that it's over, I cant help but be surprised myself:)

mafiabro : Aw, thank you! It is totally right that you love em this much:)

The Spoiled Duchess: he is too adorable!

WestonFollower: Deep breaths indeed! I did LOVE that dialogue too (in the other chapter you liked). I hope my little solution for the Barton Family Home makes you smile too:)

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Epilogue

The water worked. It was one of the final successes of the new location for the Barton family's favorite old house. Laura stood over the white plastic washtub, letting the water run hot before she attempted to hand wash the endless nooks and crannies of Nathan's baby bottles and the family cutlery. One square window looked out over the distant lolling hills. Bruce stood out there beneath their newly made swing set. He made quite a sight with the baby in his arms and his foot bopping Lila forward. The little girl's quest of the day was to go as high as Uncle Bruce let her, which never seemed to be as high as she really wanted.

Cooper raced through the picturesque scene. Odin the cat tore off across the lawn, chasing the long tail of wheat Cooper had in his hands. They zig-zagged across the grass together. In the far distance, Lila's new pony, Sleiphner, chomped lazily at the ground scrub. Occasionally he'd turn one dark black eye in the direction of the house and nicker at his little girl. Laura smiled. Everything seemed so right. Spring came, driving out the cold and pulling with it the life new beginnings are made from.

When Clint was well enough to leave the Reservation hospital, the family found themselves faced with the same predicament as before: homelessness. Determined to be some help in the situation (and not see his new favorite family left out in the cold), Sam called in a favor to a friend unacquainted with the Bartons (or any other Avengers). By the time Clint was healthy enough to leave, the new home was ready and it bore a remarkable resemblance to the one he already owned.

Pym Particles. Laura didn't know much about them and neither did anyone else, it seemed. What she did know, was that Sam's new ant friend had found a way to shrink the Barton family home to the size of a dollhouse and transported it across state lines. In this place, tucked close to the Canadian line, the farm house, its barn, their car, and everything else that belonged to the Bartons had been magically deposited and arranged over the hillside.

While having their own home returned to them, complete with Tony Stark's invisible shield hologram to keep it from prying eyes, was a welcome surprise, it did not come without its own unforeseen troubles. Firstly, the entire contents of the house had been thrown about like the contents of a snow globe. Also, though the house was intact, other items had not traveled along with it, such as the plumbing, electricity, and other basic essentials. Apparently the thought hadn't occurred to anyone until Steve went traveling precariously through the mess to the restroom and noticed that it didn't flush. A minor oversight and open opportunity for Clint to enjoy his household projects.

A small river flowed at the bottom of the hill. Large enough for fish, but too small for any real flooding, it served as their water for the first few weeks it took to get the plumbing sorted out. In the meantime they lived off the prairie like traditional country folk, washing their clothes, dishes, and all the rest in the river and hauling water to the house in buckets. The Avengers helped get the family on their feet, but it was long past time for the Avengers to return to normal things again and leave the Bartons to what they liked most, peace and quiet.

Only, it wasn't all that peaceful.

Clint had dodged death once more, something he had an incredible knack for. He would dodge it a second time over when the Smith patriarch visited along with Laura's mother, a hunting dog, and shotgun over his shoulder. They knew at once the last thing Jackson Jamison Smith planned to go after were pheasants or deer. Lila and Cooper were happy to entertain their grandparents, as always. Clint on the other hand endured the stiff-lipped grumblings of Laura's father about his ill-treatment over the phone when last they spoke. It was at that moment Natasha Romanov came strolling down the stairs, wearing Clint's button-down plaid shirt and absolutely nothing else. Father Smith deemed the Barton household a den of depravity. Natasha checked around for the kids, found them to be absent, and flipped him her middle finger. She'd never been an open advocate of the man, privately or otherwise.

After being shot in the arm, shot in the leg, and cognitively recalibrated, Natasha decided it was her sworn duty to be waited on hand and foot by whoever would cater to her. She'd spent only a few hours in search of Phil's double at the fake SHIELD base before she uncovered more things than she ought to. Five Inhumans fell before Gordon took her on, and even he received a carefully placed chair to the gut for his troubles. By the end of the fight, Natasha was stuck in a position she could not escape from on her own. With no way out, and zero back up, her band of kidnappers decided to use her talents in their favor. They had small numbers and survived on their lies. Natasha was told everything from the death of Steve Rogers, the kidnapping of the Barton kids, the murder of Clint, to anything else they might cook up. All of it meant to break down her walls. Little did they know how adept she was at working against the influence of others. Only Agent Daniels, the mind-controlling Inhuman, got her in the end.

In Natasha's opinion, she did not survive all of that only to listen to Clint's father-in-law flex his might. She sent him packing with a measure less decorum than either Laura or Clint could muster on their own.

Aside from Clint's slow recovery, the lack of proper plumbing, Natasha's injuries, the tension with the grandparents, an entirely new layer of trouble entered their lives the minute Bruce and Natasha came under the same roof. Their first argument had more intensity than a lightning storm. In Bruce's opinion, Natasha had not only lied to him, but seduced him. In Natasha's opinion she had saved him. Bruce didn't take to that very lightly and Hulked out, forcing Thor to step in as Natasha's protector. Cooper made a bag of popcorn and he, Lila, and Jake Red Fox sat on the front porch of the Reservation hospital watching the two duke it out.

This same scene repeated three more times.

If Bruce planned to stay at the Barton house while Natasha recovered, a few ground rules had to be in place. Bruce stayed in the barn apartment, Natasha stayed in the house. Bruce made breakfast, Natasha made lunch. Their schedules were perfectly opposite and, under no circumstances, were they allowed to speak to one another. Cooper and Lila were the perfect deputies to keep both of them in line.

The greatest challenge of all belong to Laura. It was a subtle thing. She felt it first whenever Clint came close to her. A strange warmth that flushed her skin, a peculiar sharpness to her reflexes, and an awareness to everything around her . . . As Clint entered the kitchen directly behind her, and decided to sneak up and throw his arms around her waist in surprise, he forgot about these elusive nuances.

Laura turned on him. Where once she might freeze, jump, or utter a squeal in surprise, now she said nothing at all. Her hand gripped the handle of the knife in the wash basin, she dropped out of his arms and in a single fluid move turned on him with the knife parallel to her arm. It would take little more than a flick of her wrist to filet his neck wide open.

Clint stopped and waited.

Horrified, Laura dropped the knife from her hand. Clint had to adjust his foot away quickly to avoid letting it stab right through the top of it. Laura's hand flew up to her mouth. She was shaking.

"It's all right," Clint whispered to her. He looked up for a moment, noted that the children and Bruce were still outside, and he knew already that Natasha slept upstairs. No one had to see Laura like this.

"I'm so sorry!" Laura exclaimed, reaching for him. She found no sign of blood along his neck where she expected it to be. He had narrowly avoided her a second time. "Clint, I'm sorry. I didn't . . . I never meant . . . "

Clint leaned down stiffly and lifted the knife. He set it back into the soapy water of the sink. "I said it's ok."

"What if that was Lila? What if it was Cooper, Clint, I can't just keep going like this!"

"It wasn't them. It was me."

"What if—"

Clint took her hands in his and squeezed. "What if doesn't matter. The world's changing, Laura. We can't trust anyone else with this. Not Phil, Nick, I don't even want to tell Nat. Tony's on this rampage after what the Inhumans did to us. He's scared. He wants their names out there the way he is. These secrets are ours and as long as Bruce is for us, then that's all we can do."

Her fingers tightened around his. "I'm dangerous, Clint."

"Only around me you are, or Natasha. It's not like you can turn green on us. We'd have known that by now. So what if you decide to be a Valkyrie around Thor and can lift his hammer? Vision does that too. I don't even care about those little things you decide to levitate when Wanda strolled by, or that you can randomly use Steve's shield now, or my bow, or shoot a target two thousand yards out. Laura, I don't care. Do you understand that?" He said the last part gently, his hand resting beside along her chin.

Laura leaned against him, pressing her lips against his fingers. "What am I going to do?" she whispered.

" _We_ ," he corrected, "are going to do the same thing we always do. I'm going to do my job and hopefully keep Tony off of this high horse he's on, even if it means siding with Cap to do it. You are going to keep being the same adorable, strong, fantastic mom that raised me right before we even had kids to think about."

He pulled her closer to him and draped his arms over her shoulders, his head resting beside hers. They watched their impromptu Hulk babysitter set Nathaniel down in his outdoor pack-and-play before Bruce ran off across the grass to chase the cape-wearing Lila. Bruce hoisted the girl over his shoulder, letting out his practiced Hulk/Bruce roar. Lila squealed in happiness. Cooper rushed to her rescue, in one hand his toy Captain America shield and Thor's hammer in the other. Odin the cat strolled over to the baby and rolled over in the sunlight.

Clint smiled as he watched his family. He didn't really know what it meant for them to be Inhumans. He considered asking Thor, though he had yet to take that step. Were his kids affected? What did this mean for them growing up? Were they eventually going to attend Xavier's school in New York? Were they going to be happy, healthy, and safe? With this changing world, was the government planning to place his kids' names on some list and track them like cattle?

Laura had already change before his eyes. He didn't want to face that reality, but it continued to stare him in the face. She wasn't dangerous, he would never think that of her, but she was different and that required some adjustments. They had plenty of money to live on between her savings and his, so for now she decided to take a break from the job hunt and focus on herself. As a mother of three, he wanted her to have everything she ever wanted.

Things change. That was life. He just wished his life changed less than everyone else on the planet.

Holding her a little tighter, Clint whispered, "You know, if you ever do turn blue or something, I think it would just make you sexier."

* * *

DAW!

I just love him.

So, as you can tell, i wrote this to sort of set up Clint's decision to join cap in Civil War. Not sure if I will write an extra story in this series in between now and that movie release. I might wait to see what happens to our favorite characters!


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